Casey vs the Fifth Elder
by atlee
Summary: When one of the Ring Elders escapes, there's only one man for the job. And now that man has a team to lead. That man is not happy. In Chapter 20, everything comes to a close.
1. Chapter 1

_So this story came about based on a few things. I kind of felt that the mysterious "Ring Elders" were dismissed awfully quickly, after all of the mystery that was built up around them. I figured I'd try to get a bit deeper into them (I wish they'd looked like a more impressive bunch than the five elderly types shown running away in the season finale, though). Second, I haven't done a Casey-centric story before – I'd abandoned the "Eleven Angry Men and One Really Angry Casey" story I'd meant to do before because I couldn't find a decent plot to work with. And third, I wanted to indulge my usual obsession with gathering random characters and throwing them together._

_I don't own 'Chuck.' That's probably because the powers-that-be are afraid I'd throw in a bunch of self-indulgent intros explaining why I do things. Of course, that's ridiculous. I'd never do something like…_

_Oh wait._

**Casey vs. the Fifth Elder**

Chapter 1

Lukewarm coffee.

It wasn't as if Roland Erickson expected the red-carpet treatment, given his current circumstances. Even if his own government was misguided, foolish, and frequently incompetent, it certainly knew that, by the strict words of the law, Erickson's actions had been treasonous. He knew that he wouldn't receive a fair trial, of course, and might not get one at all. But it certainly had to be recognized that he was a prisoner of some…stature. Someone who had almost managed to bring the entire country down.

Erickson hadn't acted alone, of course. He had been one of five people, a panel that led the Ring, a group that had wormed their way into every corner of the Government, from the highest reaches of the federal government to the lowest state and local agencies.

His own part in all of this had been overseeing the financial side of the operation. It took a lot of money to fund a group like the Ring. Ultimately, it hadn't been too difficult, just a matter of siphoning funds from various programs. A little bit from an NEA grant here, some money allotted to restore a National Park there, even shortchanging military funding. As the Ring grew, its ability to grab the necessary funding grew; in essence, it was able to feed itself.

Of this, Erickson took a lot of pride. It certainly was an achievement worth more than a cup of lukewarm coffee that he could barely bring to his lips, thanks to the cuffs binding his wrists. They'd even gone cheap on the coffee creamer, as the substance they used had a rather unpleasant aftertaste. That was probably his own fault, as he was sure his monetary maneuverings had forced the NSA to cut their coffee budget. The van they were currently transporting him wasn't much better. It had probably been repossessed from some eco-terrorists, judging by the faint patchouli scent that seemed to be lingering in the walls.

Still, no matter how short on cash they were, they should still give him some respect, rather than the ill treatment normally reserved for some petty crook or town drunk. Or better yet, for a fool like Daniel Shaw, the man whose blunder had led to Erickson's current predicament. He'd known that recruiting Shaw, a man who didn't sympathize with the cause but was willing to join anyway, was a mistake. Men ruled by their emotions were always a risky bet. He suspected that Shaw would be dealt with soon enough, though. Even though Erickson and his fellow elders were currently in custody, the Ring still had enough remaining members that justice would be swift. And then it would be only a short while before they would come for him and remove him from his current sorry status. Back in charge, he and his fellow elders would finally be able to focus on their end game.

Enjoying the thought, Erickson took another sip of his coffee. He looked up at the two agents assigned to guard him. Both remained silent. He had tried to speak to them briefly, but neither seemed interested in conversation. Clearly, they didn't see the bigger picture. Erickson didn't expect them to. History would be the true judge.

He looked back down at the coffee, and was surprised to see a speck of red inside. As he watched, a second speck appeared, and he realized that it was coming from his nose. He looked up at the two guards. One looked surprised, while the faint glimpse of a smile appeared on the face of the other.

It took only a moment for Erickson to realize what was happening. The Ring wasn't going to rescue him, even after everything he'd done for it. His mind flashed over at the future he'd long pictured; the thankful reactions of a grateful public, finally appreciating what had been done to make their country stronger and safer. The chance to become a true leader to the country. All gone. Instead of giving him what he had always wanted, the Ring had decided to spike his coffee.

"Please…" he uttered to the guard, his lips dry. The first guard was at his side now, saying something into his com device. But Erickson knew it was too late. A moment later, his vision began to blur, and his last sight was of the Cheshire cat grin of the treacherous guard.

* * *

"What?" General Beckman barked at the screen.

The young man was clearly a recent promotion, and wasn't quite used to the General's moods. His face had been white as a sheet as he'd given her the news.

"Dead, General. All of them. Erickson, Moseley, Johnson, Majewski, and Torrance."

"But how?" the General asked incredulously.

"It varied. Two were poisoned, one killed in a fall, one seemed to have a heart attack, and one died in an explosion."

The General's eyes narrowed. "An explosion? Which one was that?" In Beckman's experience, explosions were always suspicious.

The young Agent looked down at his notes. "That would be Torrance, General."

"And the body was positively identified?"

"Uh, I don't know."

"Well for God's sakes, look into it, and don't call me back until you can tell me for sure that Torrance is dead!" Beckman turned off the screen, and stared down in annoyance at her desk.

She knew that the five Ring Elders wouldn't have been willing to talk, initially. Still, she could tell that they would have cracked eventually. They'd all been in high levels of government, which meant they had become comfortable in their place. That meant that they wouldn't have been able to withstand aggressive "questioning." Their pathetic retreat from the meeting last month had only proven that. Clearly, someone else realized this as well, which was why their chance to learn about the inner workings of the Ring might now be gone.

A few hours later, her worst suspicions were confirmed. The body found at the sight of the explosion did not belong to Torrance. One of the five Elders had escaped.

Action had to be taken immediately. Unfortunately, given the extent to which the Ring had managed to penetrate the NSA, CIA, and every other agency, the General didn't have a lot of people she felt she could trust. A few other unforeseen resignations had depleted her resources even further. However, she did have one person she felt she could trust, and who would be more than up for the job.

* * *

Colonel John Casey in front of the computer screen in his living room, and soberly listened to the General's news. "So do you think Torrance orchestrated all of this himself, or is there somebody else outside?"

"We don't know, Colonel. But it would certainly seem that Torrance had a greater value to the Ring than the rest, since he is still alive and the other Elders are not. I need you to track him down."

"Of course. I will start assembling a team immediately."

"We have already done that for you, Colonel."

"Oh?" Casey asked in surprise.

"Given how far-reaching the Ring's influence was, we felt that this mission would require those we can be completely sure about. Someone like yourself." Casey nodded at the General's compliment. He was relieved to see that he had restored his standing completely after his recent troubles a few months ago.

"But there aren't many others I feel the same way about. Especially after Walker and Bartowski's 'retirements.'" Casey could hear the trace of bitterness in the General's words. She hadn't been thrilled when Bartowski and Walker had announced they were retiring from active duty. She had only agreed to it because she understood that the Ring was out of commission due to their efforts, and she owed them.

"I have managed to identify a few people to fill out your team. But it wasn't easy, and we had to reach into various other Agencies to do it. They will be meeting tomorrow morning at 0800 at a new base of operations that we have recently set up. I want you to bring them up to speed then. Good luck, Colonel. This country is counting on you." The General signed off.

* * *

Casey was of two minds about his new mission. The Ring was dangerous, and the fact that one of the Elders was now at large meant that their efforts in bringing it down weren't finished. And now he would have to do it without his old partners. Through the years he'd come to respect Walker and appreciate her as the best partner he'd ever had. And as much as he hated to admit it, Bartowski had become more than useful, even if a lot of it had to do with the pile of software he'd stuck inside his head. They'd become a real team, and that took time and effort.

Still, things had been quiet for the last month, and he'd split his time between keeping an eye on the Intersect, and trying to catch up with his new-found daughter. The former had been largely unnecessary, as Walker was more than happy to protect the Intersect (the details of which he chose not to dwell on, even if the two of them deserved their chance). The latter had been mostly awkward, as twenty years of ignorance about each other's existence took time to erase.

He was definitely ready for some action. This mission might be exactly what he needed.

So, he was feeling a bit of excitement the next morning as he headed to the location that Beckman had sent him. It turned out to be a used car lot, one that had apparently been forced to shut down due to the recent economic difficulties. Inside the showroom, he found a locked door with a retinal scanner at the side. The scanner recognized him, and he heard the snap of the door being unlocked. Everything was ready. He was almost whistling when he walked into the conference room.

His enthusiasm evaporated when he studied the team that had been assembled for him, however. "You have got to be kidding me," he mumbled under his breath.

* * *

_So, is this set-up is intriguing enough to build a story around? Please review and let me know. I promise that things will get lighter as the story goes on. _


	2. Chapter 2

_I do not own 'Chuck', sir and ma'am._

_I do not own 'Chuck', Sam I am._

**Chapter 2**

General Beckman had told Casey that the Ring's infiltration of the NSA had left her with limited resources. Still, the shock of how bad things had gotten didn't sink in until he studied the three agents seated at the conference table.

"Hey Casey! Glad to be working with you again!"

Casey's mind considered several retorts before settling on a simple growl. This was the first time he'd seen Morgan Grimes in a month. With the undercover Buy More job gone, they didn't travel in the same circles. Plus, he'd hoped that Beckman would have kicked him to the curb with Bartowski out. Apparently that wasn't the case.

The younger man was seated ramrod straight in his chair. He'd even put on a suit for the meeting, though it could use some serious tailoring. None of this changed Casey's impression that Grimes would be far more trouble than he was worth.

It was obvious that Casey's opinion was shared by the woman seated at the table. Disdain was clearly etched on her sharp features. She turned away, and glanced up at Casey, giving him a nod of recognition. It had been more than a year since Casey had been on a mission with Alex Forrest. That one mission had revealed everything Casey needed to know about her. Dedicated and professional, Forrest did everything by the book. She also had limited imagination, and tended to focus on procedure to the point of losing the big picture. She was a lot like a female version of himself, but this wasn't something Casey saw as being a good thing. He had come to appreciate working with somebody who saw things differently. As he considered this, Casey realized how much he missed working with Walker.

Still, Forrest was a competent agent, which put her well ahead of Grimes. "Agent Forrest," he said in greeting.

"Colonel Casey," she responded. "I see 49B isn't here this time," she remarked. "Nor the asset, for that matter."

"They resigned from the CIA," Casey merely said in explanation.

"Resigned? On purpose? I find that hard to believe. Surely they must have done something wrong."

"I assure you, Agent Forrest, they resigned with honor after serving their country." Forrest gave a humph in reply.

"Hold on," Grimes spoke up. "You're talking about Chuck and Sarah, aren't you?"

Forrest gave him a condescending look. "Are you really part of our team, or are you just here to take our lunch orders?" she asked.

"Hey, I'm a spy," Grimes retorted. "And I don't know why, but I swear I've seen you before."

"I doubt that."

Casey turned away from this exchange to examine the last person in the room. While Casey had worked with Grimes and Forrest before, this was the first time he'd ever met the blonde man seated at the table. He was clearly young, probably fresh out of the academy. He looked slightly nervous, and had been watching the other two rather than look up at Casey. When he felt the older man's eyes on him, he jumped out of his chair and saluted.

"Colonel, Sir. My name is Agent Bailey. Andy, Andrew Bailey."

Casey sized up the young agent briefly. Definitely fresh off the academy. He supposed that Beckman figured that meant that he was free of Ring influence. Well, loyalty was a good thing. So was experience, and he clearly wasn't bringing that to the table.

"Shouldn't there be five of us?" Forrest asked.

Casey realized that she was right. They were one person short. He briefly wondered whether the Ring had already gotten to them.

He realized he was wrong though, when a voice spoke from behind. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Casey turned around, and studied the late arrival. "You _really_ have to be kidding me."

Carina smiled. "Hello to you too, John."

* * *

While Forrest had a very different working style from Agent Walker, they were almost the same when compared to Carina Miller. Unpredictable and erratic, Carina rarely if ever took things seriously. She could also make a man lose his focus, Casey grudgingly admitted to himself.

At the moment, Casey could see that both Bailey and Grimes were staring at her. Bailey was looking at her with something approaching awe. Grimes, however, had a look of recognition on his face. "Carina?"

Carina turned to him in surprise. "Morgan? You're a spy?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it," Casey muttered. Casey decided that the two of them must have met when she was undercover with Sarah. At least that would save some trouble with introductions.

Carina turned to look at the other team members. Forrest was eyeing her coldly, apparently noting the difference between her carefully pressed suit and Carina's more skin-tight outfit. Agent Bailey was looking at her shyly, carefully trying to keep his gaze above her neck. Carina clearly saw this, and chuckled to herself.

With everyone present, Casey decided it was time for the meeting to start. He connected the laptop that he'd brought with him to the screen at one side of the room, grudgingly admitting that he'd have had no idea how to do this if it wasn't for Bartowski. Finally, he was ready to begin.

"Now that everyone is finally here," Casey gave Carina a sidelong glance, "we should start this briefing. Is everyone familiar with the Ring?"

Grimes nodded. Even he wouldn't forget what had happened a month ago. The others nodded as well.

"They even infiltrated the DEA," Carina commented.

"DEA?" Forrest scoffed. "Why even bother?"

"Hey, Carina is an excellent agent!" Morgan responded.

"Did you even know she was an agent five minutes ago?" Casey asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, no. But I'm sure she's a great one."

Forrest sniffed in response, and Casey could see that he needed to get back on topic. "Recently, the five main leaders of the Ring, the Elders as they call themselves, were apprehended." He pressed a key on the laptop, and five faces appeared on the screen behind him.

"No need to be modest, man," Morgan interjected. "We did the apprehending."

"Grimes," Casey growled, giving the bearded man a dirty look. In the corner of his eye, though, he did notice that the others appeared impressed by this bit of information.

"Yesterday, four of those five Elders died under suspicious circumstances. The fifth, however, escaped, after faking his own death." He pressed the button again, and only one face remained. "Peter Torrance." He pronounced the name with disgust.

"Who is he?" Agent Bailey asked.

Casey glanced at the information packet he'd been sent. "Ex-Army. Served in Lebanon in the 80s, before moving on to the NSA. Says here he was very diligent and smart, but lacked ambition, so he never went anywhere." Casey could understand that. He couldn't stomach the political machinations required to get ahead either. Still, it was no reason to go rogue. Continuing to read from the packet, he added, "Eventually he left to go into the private sector for a few years. Returned to the NSA five years ago, and this time he quickly rose through the ranks until he became Deputy Director."

He looked back up at his new team. "And now we need to find him, and find out what he's up to."

"Trying to stay alive, I'd guess," Forrest said. "He'll have a lot of people looking for him."

"Maybe so, but he's still connected. He had to have some help in getting away. And I doubt he's just going to lie low. Thanks to the deaths of his four comrades, we never found out what the Ring's final goal was, but we can't assume it's changed now."

"So how do we find him?" Forrest asked.

"The way I see it, we've got two tactics. One, we look into Torrance's past, and the past of the other four Elders. See how they connect, and if that reveals anything about what they were planning."

"Two, we've got two resources who have not yet been eliminated. One is this man." The image on the screen changed to a shorter man with receding, dark hair. "The Director, he calls himself, but his real name's Jason McCracken. Recently taken into custody. Our original belief was that he outranked the Elders, but given the lack of interest the Ring has shown in him since then, our Intel may have been wrong. Still, he may know something."

The screen shifted again, this time to a taller, younger man. "The second is this man. Daniel Shaw. A recent convert to the Ring, captured along with the Elders one month ago."

"You left out the part about him being a complete dillhole."

"Grimes, would you please stop interrupting," Casey growled, though he had to admit he was right about that part.

Forrest was studying the picture intently. "I had no idea Shaw was Ring. I worked with him on a mission before. Seemed loyal to our country."

"He let his personal feelings get in the way," Casey offered simply in explanation. "Turns out he wasn't that hard for the Ring to turn. But now we have him, and he might also know something about Torrance. He was the CIA's biggest expert on the Ring before he joined them."

"So that's it?" Carina asked. "We find Torrance and figure out what he's up to? Seems like a piece of cake."

"Don't get too cocky, Carina," Casey said. He didn't like such enthusiasm. Enthusiasm made people reckless.

"It would be naïve to think this is a simple mission," Forrest commented, earning a brief dark look from Carina. "For one thing, how do we know that none of us are Ring? Like you said, Colonel, we never got a chance to uncover all of its links to the Government. Any one of us could be one of those links." There was silence for a moment. "Except him, of course," she said, pointing to Grimes.

"Well I'm, uh, glad you can recognize my patriotism."

"Not really. But I doubt that the Ring would be desperate enough to use you."

Forrest turned away from the pouting Grimes and her gaze encircled the rest of them. "But any of the rest of us could be one of them."

"Even you?" Carina said.

Forrest shrugged. "Even me. Though I'd like to think that my record…"

"You're the stripper!"

Everyone turned away from Forrest and looked at Grimes.

"You're the stripper. From Awesome's bachelor party. I knew I recognized you from somewhere!" Casey could hear Carina tittering in the background.

Forrest didn't look too pleased at this announcement. "I was undercover," she finally said.

"Undercover? Investigating who? It wasn't Jeff, was it? I know he's into some weird stuff, but I don't…"

"General Beckman personally chose each of you," Casey interrupted. He knew that Forrest was right, but a team couldn't function if everyone was suspicious of everyone else. "I trust her judgment on this." Even if that judgment had led to Grimes being in this room.

The four other members of Casey's team nodded mutely. He looked over each of them. Clearly, they weren't the ideal choice, but it was what he had, and he'd have to work with them.

As he began to head out of the room and return to ground, he hard Morgan say. "This is great! It's like we're a real team. Like the Scooby gang or something." Casey turned around to get Grimes to shut up, but he was already talking again.

"We've got Fred," Grimes pointed towards Casey, "Daphne," he gestured towards Carina. "Then there's Velma," Forrest frowned, while Carina laughed again. "Shaggy," he pointed to Agent Bailey, "then, um…"

"I guess that makes you the dog," Forrest said, a cruel look on her face.

Casey shook his head, and turned back towards the stairs. Behind him, he heard, "I'm ok with that! The dog made that team. The dog was the linchpin!"

Not for the first time in the last few years, Casey found himself seriously considering retirement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A couple of hours later, Casey was at the wheel of the El Camino, pursuing the mission's first course of action. The agent in charge of Torrance's transport, the armored truck that never reached its destination, was stationed in San Bernardino. Even if he wasn't Ring, he had a lot to answer for. And Casey wanted to be the one to ask the questions.

"So which of you is going to be good cop and which is going to be bad cop?" Agent Bailey asked from the back seat. Casey felt a momentary jolt of deja vu, as if Bartowski was seated back there. Apparently, the El Camino was to be permanently tainted with the sound of stupid questions. No amount of detailing would get rid of that.

"Good cop is overrated," Forrest said from the passenger seat, "and entirely unnecessary to get our answers."

"We don't know that he's one of them," Casey reminded them.

"Right, he just might be incompetent."

If there was any information to be found, Casey was confident that they'd get it. He was a little less certain of his two remaining agents. He'd instructed Grimes to stay back and find out anything he could on the five Ring Elders. He hoped that there was something common to all of their pasts, which might help reveal what their ultimate goal was. It was probably too much to hope for that Grimes would find it; as he was leaving, the moron had said something about looking up Torrance's Wikipedia page.

He'd also left Carina behind. Even though she'd probably be good in a fight if it came to that, he'd seen enough of her and Forrest together already that he knew he didn't want to be stuck in a car very long with the two of them.

* * *

"I wish I could be of more help," Agent Robertson said. His days as a field agent had long passed, as his slight paunch clearly indicated. "I've coordinated prisoner transfers all of the time, but this has never happened before."

Casey looked around at Robertson's base of operation. Much like Castle had been, the headquarters were secretly located within a fast-food establishment. Unfortunately, the smell of Mexican food permeated the air, even with the air-tight security. Technologically, the place was clearly several generations behind what Casey had become accustomed to as well. It seemed odd that a Ring Elder would be entrusted to someone working here.

"This is just a temporary holding facility," Robertson explained, as if anticipating Casey's question. "Torrance was on his way to a maximum security facility in Nevada."

"But he never got there," Casey grunted. "We'll need the files on everyone who worked here that may have had contact with Torrance."

Robertson nodded, but Casey could see that he was skeptical. "He was only here for one day, so he didn't come into contact with many people." Seeing the expression on Forrest's face, he whitened slightly. "But I'll get you everything you need."

Robertson motioned for a young woman to walk over to his desk and said, "Audrey, get a copy of the personnel files of everyone to these agents."

"Everyone?"

"Yes, everyone!" Robertson snapped. Clearly he realized that his status with the agency was tenuous at best, and the pressure was starting to get to him. Casey glanced over at Agent Bailey, and motioned for him to follow her.

"Now," Casey said once Bailey and the woman had left, "let's see that holding cell."

* * *

Morgan had always figured that the life of a spy was spent doing exciting things in exotic location. Romancing beautiful women while playing baccarat. Fighting evil agents with bad orthodontic work. So far, reality hadn't lived up to that, Morgan thought to himself as he glanced over at the piles of papers spread out across the conference room table. Casey had been sent piles of information on the five Ring Elders, most of it useless, and all of it boring. And instead of Monte Carlo or Casablanca, he was stuck in a dark office that smelled like motor oil.

At least the beautiful woman part had worked out, even though he wasn't sure why Carina had been left behind with him. Morgan had a sinking suspicion that she was only here to keep an eye on him, which he resented. He didn't need a babysitter.

Still, his old babysitter had been a sixty year-old woman whose breath smelled like cherry-flavored Robitussin and butterscotch. Carina was…Carina. "I'm sorry you got stuck here, too," he spoke up. "This probably isn't your kind of mission."

"Research isn't really my thing," Carina admitted.

"So why did Casey leave you here? Doesn't he trust me here alone?"

Carina smiled briefly. "It's probably the other way around. He probably figured I'd cause trouble if I went with him. Casey and I haven't really seen eye-to-eye when we've worked together before. I think Agent Forrest is more his speed," she added drily.

"Yeah, I think they have identical scowls. Maybe they're related?"

Carina turned back to flipping through her stack of papers, and Morgan tried to return his attention to his own pile. So far, Carina hadn't mentioned what had happened between them last year. He wondered if it was something she wanted to forget. At least she remembered his name this time, he thought to himself ruefully.

"So why do you think Casey wouldn't want you here alone?" Carina asked after a minute.

'Oh, um…" Morgan didn't want to admit that he was new on the job.

"You were part of the team that caught Shaw, right? That means something, even if you are new at being an Agent."

"How did you…"

"I could tell you weren't an agent last time we were here," she replied. "I do have some instincts for that kind of thing."

"Oh." Morgan looked down.

"But I can see you're different now. And General Beckman wouldn't have asked you on the team if she didn't think you could handle it. Don't let Casey or Forrest make you think otherwise."

Morgan returned Carina's smile, until her face turned serious. "Forrest was right about one thing though. Considering everything, we can't entirely trust each other."

"I trust you."

Carina smiled. "That's sweet. Kind of stupid, but sweet. I _am_ an outsider, remember. I was DEA, not NSA or CIA."

Morgan had forgotten about what she'd said earlier. "Oh yeah. Um, you should know that there was this one time that a guy I worked with brought in these mushrooms…"

"Relax, Morgan. I'm not here to bust you."

"Oh, ok." Morgan stared down at the packet in front of him, the words on the page not sinking in. "So, when you were here visiting Sarah before…"

"I was on a mission."

"So then you and Sarah aren't really friends?"

"Oh no," Carina replied with a smile, "we go back a long way. We were in the academy together, and we shared a lot of classes. Marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, seduction."

Morgan's eyes bulged slightly. "Seduction? There's a class for that?"

"Oh yeah. And trust me, Sarah might be a better shot, but she's got nothing on me when it comes to seduction. I could tell that much when we used to practice on each other."

Morgan suddenly felt the need for a drink of water, but at the moment he didn't really want to stand up. Instead, he focused on the records in front of him. The biographical details of the life of Heather Moseley, former Ring Elder were fairly slim. Career CIA officer. Spent time stationed in Baghdad, Seoul, Warsaw, and a bunch of places that Morgan had never heard of. Earned several promotions, the most recent occurring after the death of somebody named Langston Graham. He yawned, and flipped over to the next page, which included some of the financial details of her life. Even more exciting, Morgan thought to himself, until he saw a name he recognized.

"Hey, what was the name of that company that Torrance worked for when he left the NSA?" he asked Carina.

The female agent flipped through her notes. "Interglobal Industries. You find something?"

"According to this, Moseley was a major stockholder. Could be a connection." Morgan thought for a moment. "Interglobal Industries. They wouldn't be some private military contractor, would they?"

"Uh no, actually they manufacture medical supplies. Why?"

Morgan shrugged. "The bad guy is always some private military contractor on TV."

"Well, keep looking. See if the other three are connected to it. I need a break." Carina stood up and stretched. Morgan tried to avert his eyes, but didn't have much success. Who knew that being in the CIA would involve such torture.

* * *

Much like the rest of the place, the holding cells weren't exactly state-of-the-art. Still, it didn't seem like anyone could have slipped Torrance anything that he could have used to escape.

"He didn't escape from here," Robertson said from behind him. "I'm not sure what you'll find."

"You should be more helpful," Forrest said, getting in the older Agent's face. "Because it's in your best interest that Torrance gets caught. Otherwise, you might find yourself responsible for the deaths of many people. And you don't want that, because I might have to come back here to make sure you _take_ that responsibility."

To emphasize this, she pushed Robertson against the wall behind the holding cell door. Casey briefly debated whether he should step in, but decided that they needed any information they could get. Forrest's method might be the most effective way to do that.

"Now would be the time where you give us something useful," Forrest said between clenched teeth.

"I really don't know anything!" Robertson protested, his voice an octave higher than before. "Honestly, I don't!"

"He didn't say anything to you?" Casey asked.

"He talked all of the time, but never about anything. He kept talking to the guards about baseball. I think he was on Orioles fan."

"No wonder he's so mad at the world," Casey commented drily.

"But that was it, I swear! No, wait. He did say something to me before we loaded into the van. Something about the world going to change from the ground up. Seemed silly to me. Prisoners often say ridiculous things like that."

Forrest let Robertson go, and glanced over at Casey. "We should get back. We've probably found as much as we're going to find here."

They met Agent Bailey standing outside by the car. He handed Casey a pile of papers. "That's everything on the people who work here. Think there's anything good?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But tomorrow we interview the so-called 'Director.' I'll bet he has something more useful to say."

* * *

Jason McCracken threw the book off to the side in annoyance. While reading Hamlet was generally a satisfying experience to him, he didn't appreciate the irony at the moment. The Ring had been indecisive, and waited too long to pursue their final goals. And that indecision had cost them, and him. And now here he was, the former Director of the Ring, stuck in a dank cell without a link to the outside world. At least they let him read.

He knocked on the door, hoping to alert a guard. Finally, one approached. "Yeah?"

"You have anything a bit lighter? I'm not really in the mood for tragedy at the moment."

The guard chuckled. "I bet you aren't. This isn't a library you know."

"Of course not. Still, I'm not going anywhere, and a little bit of civility isn't too much to ask for, is it?."

The guard sighed. "Well, we've got this week's 'People' magazine. How's that?"

"I thought your government doesn't torture people."

"All right, fine, I'll see what I can find."

The guard disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a small paperback. "Here. 'Twelfth Night.' That work better for you?"

"Perfect." McCracken accepted the book, and flipped open to the first page. Nothing like some mistaken identity hijinks for wiling away the long hours of imprisonment.

McCracken noticed that there was an inscription on the first page. He figured that it was old, as the book was probably donated from a library at some point. Still, his curiosity led him to read it anyway.

"_Director McCracken. We hereby terminate your services with The Ring."_

McCracken dropped the book and pounded on the door. "Guard! You have to get me out of here! We're all in danger!"

The Director's please went unheard, and a moment later, a loud bang exploded through the night air as the underground bunker exploded.


	4. Chapter 4

_I don't own 'Chuck.' I'd hoped to get a share, but the current owners didn't like my idea for Season 4: Chuck's mom is actually General Beckman's twin sister, and Sarah gets possessed by the devil._

_I should avoid soap operas._

**Chapter 4**

Casey pushed aside the pile of employee records in annoyance. There was nothing there. Nothing about any of the people working at the San Bernardino office that jumped out at him. The same thing went for the men that had been on Torrance's transport to Nevada.

Casey hadn't been exactly sure what he was looking for, which didn't help. Just something that distinguished somebody from everyone else. It wasn't that everyone's record was spotless, either. That in and of itself would have been suspicious. But there was nothing to connect anyone to the Ring. For the most part, the agents working in that office stayed in that office. It wasn't a step on the NSA's ladder of success. Still, it wasn't as if it was the Siberia of assignments either; there were many worse places for a field agent to be sent than southern California. So it didn't seem like anyone in that office would be carrying a grudge about his or her current station. All of which meant that nobody there looked like a suspect.

His recent conversation with General Beckman had just made matters worse. She had popped up on his view screen an hour earlier to tell him that a secure NSA facility in Denver, and with it "Director" Jason McCracken," had just been destroyed. A team had dispatched to the site, but it was unlikely that anything would be found. Beckman was clearly frustrated, and she took it out on Casey, focusing on the lack of progress on the part of his team.

So, he was considering whether a glassful of Scotch would bring him wisdom when there was a knock on the door. Instinctively, he grabbed his weapon and switched on the surveillance monitor. The figure of Grimes on the screen emitted one of his trademark growls. "What is it?" he barked into the intercom.

"Oh, hey Casey, do you mind if we talk?"

Casey resisted the temptation to immediately say no. Grimes was a member of the team, so Casey was obligated, probably by law. He should check that, in case this situation arose again. He opened the door.

Casey's eyes immediately latched on to what Grimes was holding in his hand. This time he decided to trust his instincts, and slammed the door. Unfortunately, this only resulted in more knocking.

"What is it?" Casey growled as he opened the door again.

"Hey, Casey. It must be windy here, the way the door shut just like that."

"What do you want, Grimes?"

"Um," Grimes looked a bit unsure of himself. "The thing is, you know how I've been living over there with Chuck and Sarah? Well, it's kind of got a bit crowded, with the whole new couple thing, and I was thinking that…"

"Walker kicked you out, didn't she?" Casey smirked.

"Well, not in those exact words, but we did come to a … mutual understanding. Anyway, I figured that now that we're teammates and all, it would be the most…practical thing for me to stay here." He waved the suitcase in his hand to emphasize the practicality of the idea.

It took all of Casey's self-control to prevent another 'gust of wind' from slamming the door again. In a rare moment of naivety, he had hoped that the suitcase contained printouts of information on the Ring Elders. "You'd better not be serious," he said, leaning into Morgan to emphasize the foolishness of his idea.

"Aw, c'mon Casey, don't be like that. It'll be perfect, we can work on the mission together, discuss plans of action, have some quality chat time with the General…"

"What about your mother?" Casey interrupted, hoping to stop Grimes before he starting talking about them braiding each other's hair.

Grimes made a face. "Are you kidding? With Big Mike there? That would be worse than Chuck and Sarah. A lot worse. Have you ever seen Big Mike in just his boxers?"

Casey had to admit that was something he'd want to avoid too. Still, Casey valued peace and quiet above almost all else, and Grimes was the exact opposite of quiet. "Why can't you get your own place?"

"With what? I don't get a Buy More salary any more."

"No, with what the CIA is paying you, moron."

Grimes gave Casey a surprised expression. "The CIA is paying me?"

"Don't you check your mail, you idiot?"

"My mail still goes home. Big Mike, boxers, remember? Hey, look at it this way. Think how much easier in an emergency if I'm right here, rather than trying to find me somewhere else."

Casey was more worried about the emergencies he'd be causing right here than any help he'd provide during one. Still, it would be less of a hassle to find him if he was right there, rather than having to search through all of Burbank's arcades, comic book stores, and wherever the hell else he spent his time.

Casey sighed. "Just for a couple of days," he muttered, as if hoping Grimes wouldn't hear him. "Then you find your own place." He reluctantly beckoned for the younger man to follow him, and led him into his workout room. There was a small cot on the side behind the free weights and other equipment. Grimes grimaced as he examined his new surroundings, then quickly forced a smile when he saw Casey glaring at him.

"This is just great, Casey. Thanks a lot."

"Just remember, this is not your room. It's my room, which I'm letting you temporarily be in. So don't get comfortable, and don't make yourself at home."

"You got it, big guy," Grimes said, nonplussed. "This is going to be great! I'll finally get to see what makes John Casey tick!"

"Oh I tick alright," Casey said maliciously. "Like a bomb. And if you're not careful, I'm going to go off."

* * *

An hour later, Casey reluctantly went to check in on his new boarder. Despite Casey's words, Grimes was currently putting a poster of an old man up on the wall. "Stan Lee," Grimes said when he saw Casey's questioning gaze, "a true American hero."

Casey grunted, but decided to let that pass. "Grimes, there's something we need to talk about."

"Oh, I used tape for the poster. No nails."

Casey chuckled to himself. If Grimes had used a nail, the vibrations in the wall would have set off the warning censors in the bungalow, and the younger man would have wound up with a face-full of knockout gas. "It's not about that."

Casey sat down on an exercise bench. "It's about the mission, and the team."

"Ok," Grimes looked uncertain.

"It's important that you don't bring up or discuss Bartowski to anyone."

"Oh. Not even Carina?"

"Not even Carina." Casey wasn't surprised that the ex-DEA agent had managed to wrap Grimes around her finger in a day. He wasn't the first to fall to her charms. "We still don't know what the Ring's objective is," he explained, "but they have shown a lot of interest in the Intersect project in the past. That may still be part of Torrance's objectives."

"But is Chuck safe?"

"He's still got the thing in his head, so he can protect himself. Plus, he's got Walker." Casey had discussed some extra surveillance with the General as well, but he didn't feel like bringing it up to Grimes, because that information would immediately find its way back to Bartowski. He really didn't need to deal with his whining right now.

Grimes considered this for a moment, before finally nodding, apparently satisfied. Then he gave Casey a quizzical look. "So you really don't trust anybody on the team then?"

"That's a luxury we can't afford, until we find out more about the Ring's reach. And besides, I never trust anybody."

"That's kind of sad, Casey. You need to let people in." Grimes approached Casey, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. One growl later, Grimes reconsidered.

"You must have at least trusted Chuck, right? And Sarah?"

Casey did consider this for a moment. It had taken a couple of years, but he had come to trust Walker, even if she was CIA. As for Bartowski, he wasn't sure he actually trusted his abilities, but he had come to accept that he would do what was right for the country, no matter what. So underneath it all, he did trust Bartowski. This realization made Casey really want a drink.

"See there," Grimes interrupted his thoughts. "It's good to trust people. And you can trust me. Like that Forrest said, there's no way I'm Ring. And now I've got your back."

The scotch didn't pour into Casey's glass quickly enough.

"Well, at least I do have something that will cheer you up," Morgan continued. "I think Carina and I found something today."

* * *

"Last night, a bomb went off at one of our facilities. Twelve men and women were killed, including the Ring's so-called 'Director.'"

Casey watched the other four members of the team take this in slowly, their faces registering shock first, followed by annoyance. Casey had already come to grips with this turn of events, and he mostly felt only anger now. Anger at the impediment to their mission, anger at the loss of life, and especially anger that the loss he must regret the most is the one of an enemy.

Casey had arrived at the car lot facility a couple of hours ago. He'd needed the extra time to prepare the meeting, and he didn't want to face the possibility of carpooling with his new roommate. The other members of the team had only just arrived in the conference room.

Forrest recovered first. "He must have known too much," she commented.

Casey nodded. "Torrance is covering his tracks."

"But how are we ever going to find out what he's hiding, now that the Director is dead?" Agent Bailey asked.

"Shaw," Grimes spoke up. "What about him?"

"Still safe and sound," Casey said. The General had told him the number of guards watching over the ex-agent had been doubled.

"So are we going to talk to him? Find out what he knows before Torrance goes after him?"

"_We're_ not. I am."

Casey smiled briefly at the consternation on everyone's face. He'd anticipated it. But it was too late. He was going to be on a flight to Illinois in an hour, and then it would be a short ride to the interrogation.

"But I do have another mission for the rest of you. A link has been uncovered between our Ring Elders." Casey couldn't bring himself to credit Grimes with discovering that link. "Interglobal Industries. All of othe Elders were involved with it, either as employees or investors. And it's clear from his quick action that Torrance still has some resources at his disposal. This company could be the key."

"Interglobal's headquarters is in Phoenix," Casey continued. "We need to have a look. I've organized transport for you this morning. You are to go in and see what you can find. Any connection to the Ring or Torrance. Forrest will be leading the mission."

There was some muttering at this last statement, particularly from Carina. Casey had anticipated this, but he didn't really care. Forrest had more experience than Carina, and was more dependable.

Casey was actually somewhat disappointed about not being able to join them on their mission. Reconnaisance was much more interesting than spending an afternoon with Daniel Shaw. But that wasn't an option. He had to be the one to question him. Shaw would jump at the chance to bring up the Intersect project. As Casey had told Grimes the previous night, that wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with too many ears around.

He turned back to his team. "We're already behind, so we have some catching up to do. So be careful going in to Interglobal, but we need results. Torrance is already laughing at us, and I don't particularly like the joke."

Casey headed out of the room without waiting for a response. He had a plane to catch.

* * *

_So at some point during the last few episodes of Season 3 I remember thinking "Oh God, they're going to do the whole Casey and Morgan as wacky roommates thing. How lame." And yet, what do I do here? Casey and Morgan as wacky roommates, just because it seems to work for the plot._

_Hypocrisy, thy penname is Atlee._

_Please comment on this and my other story-related failings in the comments section._


	5. Chapter 5

_I don't own "Chuck," side-effects of this story may include headache, dry mouth, ulcers, and blurred vision, objects in this story are closer than they appear, and do not operate heavy machinery while under the influence of this story._

_I think that covers all of the necessary disclaimers._

**Chapter 5**

One of the things that excited Morgan about working for the CIA was finally getting the chance to travel. He'd never thought he'd ever get to see Europe until he had flown there to find Chuck and Sarah a few months ago. He'd always had a long list of places he wanted to see before he died, and was confident he'd get the chance now. He ticked them off in his mind. London. Tokyo. Bangkok (the name always made him giggle). Branson, Missouri.

Phoenix didn't quite make the cut on Morgan's list, but it least it was someplace new. He figured he'd at least get some good glimpses of cacti or coyotes or something. Unfortunately, from his current vantage point in the back of the van, he wasn't seeing much of anything.

An NSA agent had met them at the airfield after their short, bumpy flight had mercifully ended. The agent was currently driving the van, while telling Agent Forrest everything he knew about Interglobal. Judging by the scarcity of conversation currently coming from the front of the van, he didn't know much.

This left Morgan in the back with Carina and Agent Bailey. Things were even quieter there, as no one had said anything the entire trip. Carina appeared to be excited, her beautiful face shining with anticipation. Since that face hadn't taken any notice of Morgan, he looked over at Bailey. The young Agent didn't look excited; he looked green.

"This will be a piece of cake," Morgan told him. "It's just an office building, right? Nothing more dangerous than papercuts and flying staplers. Isn't that right, Car.. Agent Miller?" Morgan quickly backtracked, figuring Carina wanted to keep things professional despite their past history.

"Actually, there's a good chance that there are some Ring agents planted in there," Carina answered after a moment. "They're much more likely to want to fight to the death than surrender."

Agent Bailey looked even greener after hearing this. He turned to Morgan. "I'm, uh, not really experienced in combat scenarios. I was pretty good with simulation exercises at the academy, but those are just video games."

"Hey, video game skills can be very important," Morgan replied. "Why I think I've logged countless hours of training on 'Call of Duty.'"

Bailey perked up. "I'm pretty good at 'Call of Duty' too. Used to play all of the time."

Morgan was going to say more, but the van stopped. A moment later, the back door swung open, and Morgan saw Agent Forrest looking back at them. "We're here."

* * *

"We've secured a cover as carpet cleaners on the sixth floor, right above Interglobal's offices. From there we are going to sneak down a flight, and look for anything linking them to the Ring." Forrest looked around at the three pairs of eyes watching her. "DEA, you and the dwarf are going to be monitoring from in here, while Agent…Bieber and I go in."

"It's Bail…" the young agent began, but was interrupted by Carina.

"You're kidding, right? You can't seriously believe I belong out here rather than in the field!"

Forrest looked like she was about to retort but instead she merely shrugged. "Maybe next time."

Morgan looked over at Carina, who was still steaming. "Hey, we can have fun in the van too, right?"

Carina gave him a dark look. "I'm not going to sit here and talk about video games with you, Morgan."

"Hey, I'm sorry," Morgan raised his hands in apology. "There might not be any action, anyway."

"There's always action."

"Well, if we hear anything, you can always run in and save the today."

Carina nodded. "Fine, but just me. You stay in the van. What?" She added when Morgan began to laugh.

"Nothing, just an inside joke."

* * *

Morgan had learned a few things in his many years hanging around Chuck. Not the least of those was how to hold one's own around electronics. So he soon had the surveillance equipment set up in the van. He only needed to make sure the microphone attached to Agent Bailey was working properly. As he turned it on, he was surprised to hear retching sounds. He slid the side door open and soon found the blond agent standing on the sidewalk hunched over a trashcan.

"Everything ok?"

Bailey looked up, his face flushed. "Oh, yeah, I'm alright."

"It's going to be ok," Morgan said. "Like I said before, piece of cake." Unfortunately, this only resulted in another round of heaving.

"Goddammit!"

Both men turned to see Agent Forrest watching them, her face stern.

"I'm almost ready," Bailey said weakly. "Just a few moments and I'll be good to go."

"Forget it. You can't go in like that."

"I guess you're stuck with me after all," Carina commented as she approached the others.

"Actually, you can't. We've arranged to have an agent at the front desk, but he's expecting a man and a woman."

"That's ok," Carina smirked, "I'm sure you could pass as a man."

Once again, Forrest didn't respond to Carina. Instead, she turned reluctantly towards Morgan. "I guess I'm stuck with you."

* * *

Maybe surveillance wasn't so bad, Morgan thought, as he pushed the vacuum cleaner into the lobby. Pushing around heavy equipment wasn't exactly his idea of excitement. He just hoped this mission wouldn't involve any actual cleaning.

Agent Forrest was a few steps ahead of him, purposefully striding towards the lobby. When she saw the man seated at the front desk, she paused. "Something wrong?" Morgan asked quietly.

"That's not our contact."

"You sure?"

"I've worked with Agent Davis before. That's not him." Morgan looked over at the front desk. The man seated there appeared to be in his fifties, with a stocky build and graying hair parted to one side. He was also watching them closely.

"So, do we turn back?"

"No, we've come too far now." Forrest lifted up her wrist and spoke into her watch. "Agent Miller, see if you can find out what happened to Davis." She turned back to Morgan. "Come on. Just follow my lead, and for God's sake, don't say anything!"

"Whatever you say, Boss," Morgan muttered under his breath.

"Do what she says, Morgan," he heard Carina in his ear. "She's a trained agent. She'll get you through this."

He pushed the vacuum cleaner across the floor, wincing slightly at the loud grinding sound it made as it rolled along the marble floor.

"Excuse me," Morgan heard Agent Forrest say to the watchman once he caught up. "We have an appointment to clean the carpet on the sixth floor."

The man looked over at the two agents, then looked back down on a book on his desk. "I don't think so. You're not scheduled."

"Are you sure?" Agent Forrest asked. "We were hired a few days ago. Perkin Cleaning Company?"

"No. Nobody gave any notice about a carpet cleaning company."

"Perhaps they talked to a colleague of yours?"

"I doubt that. I've worked most evenings the last two weeks. And while I was called in at the last minute tonight because the new guy didn't show, I doubt you made the appointment today, did you?" The guard gave them a skeptical glance. "And besides, the carpets were cleaned three months ago, and we have a strict timetable of carpet cleaning every six months."

Morgan could see that Forrest was growing impatient. "But how can you be sure of that. Do you personally hire carpet cleaners? You just work at the front desk."

"Ma'am, I take pride in my job, even if I do only work at the front desk. I keep detailed records, and I know it's been only three months. I can show you if it would make you feel better. Perhaps you should check _your_ records."

Morgan saw Forrest reach towards her sidearm. Realizing what was about to happen, he glanced back at the watchman. He reminded Morgan of a certain type of customer that would come to the Buy More. One that would always come into the store wielding a printout of some review they got from the internet, and would stubbornly cling to whatever information they'd found. Any debate about their "facts" would cause them to retreat into a shell, or leave the store in a huff. Morgan had lost a few sales that way, and after a while had begun to pick up a technique for dealing with that type of customer. They would only relent to a figure of authority, somebody who clearly knew more than they did.

"Sir, I realize that you have kept strict records, and you are right, the National Association of Carpet Shampooers recommends carpet cleaning every six months."

"Morgan, what are you doing?" he heard Carina ask in his ear. But the guard had given him his attention, so he couldn't turn back now.

"However, under some circumstances, a more aggressive approach is necessary."

"And what would that be?" the man asked.

"Mites. And not just any mites, these are really dangerous ones."

"Mites?" the watchman asked. "And, what are the names of these deadly things?"

Chuck had once told Morgan to ground any cover stories with as much truth as possible. Unfortunately, Morgan didn't know anything about mites or any other insects. He'd spent more of his time watching TV than studying for science class in his high school years. "Uh, _Drusilius Vampirati_? They're commonly known as the… Norwegian turkey mite." He heard a snort in his ear, and he could see Forrest make a face next to him.

To Morgan's amazement, the man nodded. "I think I've heard of those. Are they dangerous?"

"Dangerous? Man, you'd be surprised that something so small could be so deadly. They burrow under your skin, and you get this rash. Then the hallucinations start. I remember hearing about this one guy, thought he was being attacked by a giant snake. Turned out to be some local politician."

The man was looking scared now. "Oh my God."

"Yeah, can you imagine if that happens to anyone working here? It would be awful. And it spreads from floor to floor real quick too."

"Not on my watch," the guard said. "You guys go ahead. But stay off the fifth floor. They're touchy about security up there."

"Thank you sir. If only the men and women of this building knew of your heroism." Morgan and Forrest moved past the desk, and headed to the elevator.

* * *

"Way to go, Agent Grimes!" Morgan heard Agent Bailey say through the earpiece. "That was amazing!"

"Yeah, that could have been a disaster," Carina added.

Morgan looked over at Agent Forrest, who could hear all of this. "Something a bit less elaborate would have been better. What if he looks up your deadly Swedish turkey mite?"

"Norwegian," Morgan corrected, though he had to admit he hadn't thought about the guard double-checking his story.

"And I had everything in hand anyway," Agent Forrest added.

"Because you were going to shoot him?"

"It was just a tranq."

"Don't worry about it," he heard Carina say from the van. "Hiding the body would have taken valuable time. You did right."

Forrest didn't say anything to disagree, as the elevator had just stopped at the sixth floor.

"I thought we wanted to be on the fifth floor, where Interglobal is," he protested.

"You heard your buddy. Interglobal isn't going to let us just waltz in. We need to go in a back way." Forrest walked down a hallway, and tried the first door. It didn't budge. She produced a metal contraption from her pocket, and held it over the scanner to the left of the door. There was a click and the door opened. "Come on," she said.

The room was furnished, but empty. A large conference table stood in the middle of the room. Agent Forrest climbed up on the table, and pushed up on the ceiling. "Agent Miller, do you have the building schematics?"

"Yeah, they're right here."

"Good. Can you find us a way to the fifth floor?"

"Hold on," Agent Bailey's voice said. "Yeah, the vents lead to the fifth, but it's a long way. Lots of turns."

"Alright." She glanced up at the opening in the ceiling, then turned to Morgan. "Your turn, smart guy."

"Me?"

"Unfortunately, that guard is probably watching the security camera feeds, so he needs to see somebody vacuuming. And if looks like you can fit through there more easily than I can."

"But…"

"Just get in there."

Morgan sighed, and climbed onto the table. Agent Forrest boosted him into the ceiling vent. As he climbed up he looked down to see her pushing the vacuum back into the hall, muttering, "40 years of women's lib and the woman still has to do the vacuuming."

"There'd better not be any Ring agents in here waiting for us," he whispered as he began to crawl through the dark, dusty vent.

"Relax, Morgan," he heard Carina say. "They don't usually guard air ducts. The worst you have to look forward to is rats."

"Wonderful," Morgan grumbled.

"Relax, Grimes," he heard Agent Forrest say, now through his communication device. "I'm sure they're a lot safer than your deadly dust mites."

* * *

_Yeah, my Charah-less Casey story was missing Casey in this chapter, but I did promote Morgan to story co-pilot, so hopefully nobody was too disappointed. Please review and let me know if this story is dragging, or if the air vent thing is too cliche, or anything else you like or dislike about this story._


	6. Chapter 6

_I don't own 'Chuck.' I think I did back when I was kid, but I didn't put my name on it when I brought it to school. Some other kid took it, but he left me with his old Trapper Keeper instead, so there's that._

**Chapter 6**

If you weren't looking for it, the entrance to the NSA bunker would be impossible to find. To the casual onlooker, it appeared to be an abandoned rest area off of a now-closed stretch of highway. There was some graffiti lining the walls, courtesy of local teenagers, but otherwise nothing noteworthy about it.

Fortunately for Casey, the agent that met him when the plane landed was very familiar with the place. Casey followed him to a side door which he opened with a key. Inside were several old shelves, each covered with pamphlets of local tourist sites. Reaching behind some booklets on the nearby Museum of Writing Implements, the agent pushed a button, revealing a doorway in the floor. Casey resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Clearly, many of his fellow spies spent too much of their time watching spy movies.

"The interrogation room is that way," the agent pointed to the left once they'd climbed down the ladder into the dark tunnel. "We'll bring the prisoner in shortly."

Casey walked into the room, shielding his eyes from the bright fluorescent light. Like most interrogation rooms, it wasn't much for creature comforts, with only a table and two folding chairs inside. Casey chose to lean against the back wall instead. He was too anxious to make some progress with the mission to sit.

Shaw had never been one of Casey's favorite people. When he had been added to 'Team Bartowski,' it had never felt right to him. It was as some expensive free agent added to had been added to their team, and had only managed to throw off the dynamic. Bartowski had always been somewhat off-balance around him, too; Casey had always assumed it was jealousy but in the end the kid had been right. Whether that was the Intersect or the boy's own instincts, Casey wasn't sure.

And now, after he'd betrayed his country, he'd have the chance to be of more help than he'd ever been as an actual member of the team.

A moment later, two armed guards led Shaw into the room. He was shackled at the wrists and ankles, dressed in a plain gray jumpsuit. Shaw didn't seem to show much interest in the turn of events, and didn't react when one of the guards forcibly pushed him into one of the chairs. He didn't look at Casey until the guards had left.

"Colonel Casey," Shaw said. "It's my lucky day."

Casey grunted. "At least one of us is excited to be here."

"Oh, come now. We both know you'd only be here if you really needed my help. I assume that at least one of the Elders escaped. My guess, it's Torrance."

Casey didn't react to Shaw's statement, but it didn't matter. "It figures," Shaw said. "He'd be the one to have a backup plan. You wouldn't have been able to take him so easily."

"Well, beating you was easy enough."

Rather than acting offended, Shaw chuckled. "Well, maybe so. In fairness, that was more the Intersect than you."

"I don't care about credit. I care about this country. Which is why I'm going to make sure you tell me everything you know about Torrance and the Ring."

"Well, your loyalty is impressive, Colonel." Shaw leaned forward, and pounded his bound wrists on the table. "Still, I think you have to understand that I'm not giving away my only remaining chip for free. Information is going to cost you."

* * *

"Oof!"

"Agent Grimes, are you alright?" Agent Bailey's voice echoed in Morgan's ear. We got to his feet, wincing slightly.

"Yeah. The floor was farther away than it looked." He rubbed his side. "And harder."

"Quiet!" Agent Forrest admonished, her voice partially drowned out by the sound of the vacuum. "Just look around and tell us what you see."

Morgan shook his head briefly, unused to having all these voices in his head. If he ever got out of here, he'd have to ask Jeff how he handles it. Still, he did as Forrest asked, and looked over his surroundings. The room was dark, but he could make out several shelves. "I'm in some sort of supply closet. There's a door in front of me."

"Ok, Morgan," he heard Carina say. "There's a hallway outside the door, but there's a security camera up above. Their feed doesn't cover all cameras at the same time, it shifts from camera to camera. When I say go, open the door and crawl on the hallway floor."

"Crawl? Are you kidding?"

"You're short, Grimes, but not that short." Forrest said. "If you're crawling, it's harder for the camera to pick you up."

"Go!" Carina interrupted, and Morgan opened the door, immediately falling to his knees. He crawled slowly, looking around the hallway. He was tempted to ask whether there would be poisoned darts shooting from the walls, or a giant boulder dropping from the ceiling to chase him across the building. He resisted the urge, and asked, "Now what?"

"There should be one room to the right, and one to the left."

"So which one should I go in?"

"Whichever one is harder to get in," Forrest replied in his ear.

Morgan groaned to himself, and studied the two doors from his vantage point on the ground. The left door had a laser censor similar to the door on the sixth floor, while the other had a keypad next to it. "There's a combination lock on the door to the right."

"Ok, go to that door and stand up, but not directly in front of it."

Morgan did so. "Ok, now what? Just start hitting numbers?"

He heard Forrest sigh. "No. You have the can of carpet shampoo and the safety goggles I handed you?"

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that. Are the chemicals really that dangerous?"

"Grimes, just shut up, and do what I say. Aim the can at the lock and spray."

"You want me to clean the keypad?"

"Grimes!"

"Alright." Morgan shook the can slightly and sprayed it at the lock. Nothing seemed to happen.

"You done?"

"Yes, but…"

"Now put on the goggles."

Morgan shrugged and did so. He could now see fingerprints over four of the numbers. "Somebody pressed the 2, 4, 5, and 6 keys."

After a few seconds, Forrest said, "Ok, press 4-2-6-5."

"Um, ok." Morgan pressed the keys, and heard a click from the door. He turned the knob, and the door opened.

* * *

Casey's first instinct was to jump across the table and strangle Shaw. Still, he knew that Shaw was trained to withstand torture and a simple beating, while immensely satisfying, wouldn't do the trick. Still, some intimidation was warranted.

"I hope you realize that I can do anything I want to you, Shaw. There are no lawyers here. No one to object to anything I do, no matter how cruel or unusual. And believe me, I can be cruel…and unusual."

Shaw merely laughed. "Cute, but I'm not buying it. Face it, you've been around Bartowski for too long, and he's rubbed off on you. You're getting soft."

Casey paused for a few moments before saying anything. Finally, he spoke, the words quiet and collected. "You know, it's a funny thing about Bartowski. The man never shuts up about his feelings. I don't know if you remember some of the stakeouts we went on, but it was constant blathering. All about losing his freedom, being betrayed by his best friend. And that was if you were lucky." Casey made a face. "If you weren't, you'd have to hear about him and Walker. Enough to drive somebody nuts. Me, usually. There were a few times I was this close to beating the ever-loving snot out of him.

"But here's the thing. As much as he talked about his feelings, there was one thing that became clearer and clearer the more time you spent with him. He was never a slave to them. No matter how whiny he got about his feelings, they'd never stop him from doing what was right. He'd risk that life he was always complaining about not having, if it would save the life of Walker, or me, or somebody he'd never even met. Protecting this country and its people, that's what was number one to him. Not how he felt."

Casey walked over to where Shaw was seated. "And then there's you. You know what's right, and you've saved your fair share of lives in your time. Probably more. But then what happens? You suddenly decide that you've been betrayed, and then everything goes away. It becomes all about how _you_ feel. Your feelings are so hurt over something that happened years ago, and that's the end of doing what's right. And you know it, too, but you don't care.

"See, I don't think you ever believed in the Ring. You didn't agree with what they stood for. You just wanted to stick it to the CIA, and Walker. Because you got your feelings hurt."

Casey moved a little closer to Shaw. "So, you may be right. Maybe I have changed a bit from being around Bartowski. But that doesn't mean getting soft, because as much as I sometimes hate to admit it, Bartowski is a man I respect. You, on the other hand are nothing more than a pissy little schoolgirl who didn't get invited to some little kiddy party.

"And no, I'm not going to bargain with you. You're never leaving this place, no matter what you tell me. And it wouldn't matter anyway. Torrance has been tying up loose ends. Your pal the Director was killed yesterday, and it's probably only a matter of time for you too.

"The good news is you can actually do something right for once. Tell me something that will help stop Torrance. Give me some information that will help save what I know you still believe in. And besides, it will make you _feel_ better."

The room was quiet for a few minutes. Casey could tell that at least some of what he'd said had sunk in. He suspected that it might have been the news that Torrance was coming after him that had the greatest effect, but he'd take what he could get.

"Alright," Shaw finally said. "I'll tell you what I know."

* * *

There wasn't much in the room. There was a computer terminal on a table off to one side, and a bookshelf in one corner, with a few binders stacked on it. While Morgan glanced through them, he heard Agent Bailey's voice through his earpiece.

"Wow, Agent Forrest, how did you figure out the combination?"

"People are never as clever as they think they are. Those combinations are chosen by people, which means they try to make them seem random. The numbers couldn't be consecutive, and wouldn't start or end with the lowest or highest numbers. That combination was the most likely set someone would pick if they thought they were choosing a random order. Anyway, we don't have time for a lesson. Shut off your mic and just listen in. There's too much chatter as it is. Grimes, what do you see?"

Morgan moved away from the shelf and sat down at the computer terminal. "There's a computer here. Crap! It's asking for a password."

"Relax, Grimes. Tell me what you see in the room. Anything about the office's tenant."

Morgan glanced around the room. He hadn't really inspected the décor when he first entered. Clearly, that was because there wasn't much to inspect. There wasn't much lining the walls, just a nondescript seaside landscape that appeared to have been stolen from a hotel room, and a pennant for the Arizona Cardinals. "Um, I think the owner likes basketball?"

"Ok. Probably male. Any photographs. Maybe family members?"

There was only one photograph, standing on the bookshelf. But there weren't any identifiable family members on it. There was an arm though; upraised, and holding a very large fish.

"There's a picture of a fish. That's it."

"What kind of fish?"

"Um, not a marlin. That's as much as I can tell you."

Another sigh erupted from what Morgan assumed was Agent Forrest. "You have your phone, right? Take a picture of the photograph, and send it to me."

He did so, and a moment later Forrest spoke again. "It's a tarpon, but I don't think that matters. Try typing '79inches' in the computer."

A moment later, the log-in screen vanished, and Morgan was staring at a menu filled with nearly 60 directories. "You're going to have to tell me how you figured that one out."

"Human nature and trigonometry. But hurry up and copy anything that looks relevant."

From what Morgan could see, most of the directories included financial information. There wasn't much in the way of data on medical supplies, other than what appeared to be some journal articles. He wasn't sure what would be useful, so he figured he'd copy everything to his thumb drive.

When he stuck the drive into a computer port, though, a message box appeared on the screen, 'Foreign hardware detected.' To Morgan's amazement, the thumb drive began to melt, and soon oozed out of the computer. "Well that's something I don't get with my AntiVirus software."

"Grimes, what happened?"

Morgan looked up at the now-blank computer screen. "It shut off. I think I've been detected."

"Well, get out of there. Quickly!"

* * *

It turned out that Shaw knew more about the Elders than Casey suspected, and he willingly shared it all. Casey took notes throughout, and figured he'd have a lot to study over on the trip back to California.

As he continued to share his knowledge, Shaw seemed to grow less tense, as if a burden had been lifted. However, he didn't seem any less miserable. Finally, when he had finished, he looked up at Casey. "How is she?"

Casey didn't need to ask who he meant. "She's happy. More than I've ever seen her. Certainly more than when you were around."

Shaw didn't react to Casey's barb. "Then she and…the Intersect are still…"

"Intersecting? Oh yeah."

Shaw nodded. "Good." He quietly watched as Casey packed up his notes. Finally, after Casey had signaled the guards, he said, "Casey, promise me you'll stop Torrance. Even from the one time I'd met him, I could tell he was different from the other Elders. They were in it for money, glory, fame, whatever. Torrance, he was a zealot."

Casey merely nodded, and watched as the guards escorted Shaw back to his cozy cell.

* * *

Morgan stumbled his way back through the vent as quickly as he could, and soon fell back into the empty office on the sixth floor. Agent Forrest was waiting for him in the room, when he jumped back down to the floor. She didn't say anything, but merely motioned for him to follow.

Morgan turned towards the elevator, but Forrest pulled him away. "No time," she said, and dragged him towards the stairwell. Morgan struggled to keep up with Forrest, even though she was still carrying the vacuum. He briefly wondered why she was bothering.

On the first floor, they ignored the shouted protestation from the guard, and headed for the front door. The sound of gunfire outside stopped them in their tracks. "Oh God!" Morgan shouted.

"Calm down!" Forrest dropped the vacuum, and pulled a zipper downward from the top of the bag. She pulled out two firearms, and motioned for Morgan get down.

"Aren't you going to give me one of those?"

"You think I'm nuts?" She kicked open the door, scanned the street with one gun in each hand, pointed in opposite directions. She fired once from her left hand, then nodded to Morgan.

Several shots rang through the air as Morgan followed Forrest down the street. To try to avoid the onrush of panic, Morgan looked down and watched the cracks of the sidewalk pass by underneath him. So focused on this, he almost rushed into the street and right in front of the van that came up to them.

"Get in!" he heard Carina yell, before an arm grabbed him and pulled him inside.

* * *

_Hopefully, this chapter wasn't too overstuffed with the separate storylines. I wanted to get Casey back in the story while keeping up with the Interglobal scene. _

_Please, keep reviewing! They are always greatly appreciated, and a big help._


	7. Chapter 7

_I don't own 'Chuck.' I am trying to work out a trade though: my car and a few DVDs for 'Chuck' and a nerd herder to be named later. I'm hoping it's Anna, otherwise, no deal._

**Chapter 7**

Casey breathed a sigh of relief as he eased the Crown Vic into its customary parking space. It had been a long day, and he was happy to be home. The return flight had been long, and he'd spent as much of it as he could studying the notes he'd made from Shaw's story. It didn't give him any specifics; he still didn't know exactly where Torrance was or what he was up to, but he had a better idea of what he and his team was facing.

Still, it had been a lot to sort through, and digesting information wasn't his strong suit. Casey almost found himself wishing he had his own Intersect to process it all. He had quickly shaken that off; he'd never want to look as stupid as Bartowski did when he flashed. Still, it was tiring work.

The combined efforts of that work, the traveling, and the news that the General had informed him of after he'd landed had left Casey feeling burned out for the night. He figured he could organize his notes a bit more in preparation for the next day's meeting, but most of his night could be spent relaxing with a glass of scotch and the World War II documentary he'd just bought on DVD. Unfortunately, the sound of gunfire that greeted him as he opened the door made him reconsider his plans.

"Take cover!" Casey stiffened as he recognized the voice of his new 'roommate.' Cursing to himself, he pulled his own firearm, and slowly entered the bungalow.

"Can you see who's shooting at us?" Casey recognized the frantic voice of Agent Bailey.

"Wait, over there! Ha, got you, you bastard!"

Surprised by Grimes' yelp of triumph, Casey cautiously peered inside.

"What the hell?"

Two sets of eyes looked up at him in surprise. Both Morgan and Agent Bailey were seated on the couch, game controllers in hand. Bailey looked frightened, while Morgan smiled.

"Hey man, we were just rocking some 'Call of Duty.' You know, unwinding after the mission"

Casey gave the room a quick sweep. His high-density monitor, usually only used for monitoring security footage and airing military DVDs, was now attached to some sort of game box. Two speakers had been attached as well, explaining the loud gunfire he'd heard as he'd entered. Grimes and Bailey were seated on the couch facing the monitor, their feet up on his coffee table. Two cans of grape soda were standing on the coffee table, one in grave danger of being knocked over by Grimes's foot. A DVD box also stood on the table, the cover with a picture of what looked like a girly romance novel to Casey. At the top, it said, 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer.'

"And what the hell is this?" he asked, picking up the box.

"Buffy? We were going to watch an episode a bit later. It, uh, kind of came up in conversation today. You can watch too, if you'd like."

Casey ignored the offer, only in part because he was being invited to watch his own television. "You talked about TV shows during your mission?" Casey knew he should be used to that by now. Bartowski had once spent a four-hour stakeout going on about something called 'Firefly.'

"Just in passing."

"And did you actually accomplish anything when you weren't gabbing about, Casey shook the box, "whatever the hell this is?"

"Hey, Agent Grimes was great," Bailey said. "He bluffed our way into the Interglobal building. And then got into their offices."

Casey raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if he was more concerned about the team having to rely on Grimes to get in the building, or more surprised that he could do it.

"But hey, Agent Forrest figured out the computer password just like that," Grimes chimed in.

"So the mission was a success?"

"Uh, not exactly," Morgan looked down. "They, uh, were alerted to our presence and came after us. But you should have seen Carina's driving. It was like 'Grand Theft Auto'! Those guys totally couldn't keep up, and we lost them on the way back to the plane."

"So you didn't get anything?"

"No," Agent Bailey shook his head, though Morgan stayed silent.

Casey struggled for a moment to hide his frustration, but gave up when he had to lunge towards one of the soda cans to keep it from spilling. Hearing the oncoming growl, Bailey leaped to his feet. "Uh, maybe I should go, Mor- Agent Grimes."

"Good idea," Casey managed in response.

"I'll, uh, see you later tonight?" Bailey asked Grimes, as he headed towards the door.

"Yup, later tonight," Grimes responded.

Bailey took one more frightened look at Casey, then hurried away.

* * *

"Tonight?"

"Uh yeah, the team was going to get together later tonight, have a few drinks. You know, unwind after the mission. You want to come?"

"Actually, I have a busy evening of pummeling my 'roommate' planned."

"Oh. Wait, what? Why?" To Casey's satisfaction, Grimes finally looked somewhat frightened.

"What was it I told you about staying here?"

"This is not my home, and I should under no circumstance make myself comfortable." The words came out quickly, as if Grimes was uttering an incantation.

"And?" Casey lifted the DVD box.

"Any geekery undertaken on the premises must be kept completely out of your sight at all times," Grimes recited. "I really think you're dismissing the joys of Buffy too quickly, Casey. It's Season 2, all about how an undying love was destroyed by…" Grimes's words trailed off as he saw the older man's face darken.

"And did you think I was joking?"

"What? Oh," Grimes looked around. "Is this because I didn't use a coaster?" He pointed to the two soda cans on the coffee table.

"I don't care about coasters," Casey said. Furniture was to be used, after all, not stared at like some work of art. "It's about disconnecting my security network so you can play some games. It's about bringing third parties into my home, without informing me."

"Ah, right. The lack of trust. Forgot." Grimes sat back down. "So, I guess by your sunny disposition that your mission didn't go perfectly either?"

Casey grunted. "No, it went fine. Got the information I wanted."

"So how _is_ the honorable Agent Shaw?"

Casey took a moment before answering.

"Dead."

Grimes looked shocked. "So the Ring got to him?"

"No."

"Then…_you_ got to him?"

Casey merely grunted in response.

* * *

Grimes was right, but not in the way he thought. The General had informed him what had happened to Shaw when he talked to her after landing.

"Colonel, were you able to get any information from Shaw?" she had asked him, as usual dispensing with any greetings.

"He told me what he knew."

"Good. You won't get a second chance."

"The Ring. They got to the bunker?"

"No, Colonel, the bunker is still there. But Agent Shaw is dead. Hung himself in his cell."

* * *

Casey didn't tell Grimes any of this, but inevitably Grimes couldn't stay quiet.

"So Shaw bit the dust, huh? Can't say I'm too bummed about that, what with the whole traitor thing. And besides, you ever try to have a conversation with him? Like talking to a tree stump."

"Grimes!" Casey barked. "Show some respect. Before he became…what he was, he was a hero. Saved a lot of lives. While he may have got what was coming to him in the end, the least you can do is not dance over his grave."

Grimes looked confused. He was probably remembering the various things Casey had said about Shaw in the last month. Finally, he said, "Ok. Sorry." He walked over to the monitor and started sorting through the cables. "I'll have this place back to the way it was in just a sec."

Casey grunted again, and went to the kitchen to get his glass of scotch. When he returned, the game system was gone, and the coffee table was cleaned up. Morgan was seated on the couch, with a folded up paper in his hand.

"I did find something when I was at Interglobal, but I didn't want to show it to any of the others." His interest piqued, Casey walked over to the couch. Morgan handed the paper to Casey.

"I remembered Chuck had said that the thing that his dad built that removed the Intersect looked something like a lava lamp. So I was a bit surprised when I found this in a binder in an office today."

Casey was studying the paper as Grimes was talking. It appeared to be a set of plans, and the picture did look somewhat like Orion's contraption that had removed the first Intersect from Bartowski's head. He nodded to Grimes. "Ok, good work. We'll try to figure out what this is. Just don't tell anybody about it when you're playing around tonight."

Grimes nodded. "Does that mean you're not coming out with us?"

Casey shook his head. "Long day. Think I'll just stay in."

"Suit yourself."

"Just don't get hungover and miss tomorrow morning's briefing. It's at 0800."

Casey could hear Grimes's groan as he headed out the door.

* * *

Casey could usually count on his nightly glass of scotch to give him some clarity, to put all of the usual annoyances and irritations in perspective. Tonight, the single malt was falling down on its job.

It was crazy. Casey had killed lots of men in his life. He'd stopped keeping track of the total years ago. He hadn't exactly become desensitized to killing, but he had eventually come to terms with the fact that killing had become necessary to protect his country.

Of course, he'd always killed the enemies with bullets, knives, occasionally his bare hands, or in one occasion, with a garden gnome. This was the first time he'd killed somebody with his words. And even though everything Grimes had said about Shaw was true, the idea that he'd taken away somebody's will to live just felt wrong.

Had he become soft, like Shaw himself had said? Too much time with Bartowski? He shook his head. He had let personal things affect his job performance this past year, and had almost lost everything he'd always worked for because of it. And he didn't regret it, either. Ultimately, the team had succeeded when he had returned. He chuckled to himself. Perhaps all of Bartowski's prattling on about how emotions were necessary to being a good agent carried a grain of truth after all.

He glanced over at the folded up paper that Grimes had discovered. Clearly the Ring, and for that matter his own government, saw things differently from Bartowski. To them, it was still about the Intersect, even now. About turning agents into walking databases, or robots with skill sets preloaded rather than trained like in the old days. Emotions were not a part of that equation. It was becoming a world he didn't understand. And apparently, he now was looking at it from the same vantage point as Bartowski and Walker.

But he'd be damned if he'd start being overcome by 'lady feelings.' He still had some self-respect. In the end, all that really mattered was the man who had been a traitor to his country was dead. Whether he did it by his own hand, or by someone else's, didn't matter.

Satisfied, Casey drained the last of the scotch from the glass, and turned to go to bed. He paused, though, and soon turned around. Things still didn't feel right, even though he'd reasoned his way through the Shaw situation. He returned to the couch sat back down. He found his phone and entered the first number in has address book..

"Alex? Hi. It's your… it's John. Do you have time to talk?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry it took a bit longer to update. I was out of town for several days and hadn't finished the next chapter before leaving. On the road, I thought I passed a roadside stand selling 'Chuck' but it turned out they only had second-hand episodes of 'Small Wonder.' So I still don't own 'Chuck.'_

**Chapter 8**

A good six hours of sleep had done Casey a world of good. He dressed quickly, and headed to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast. While he didn't usually bother with a large meal in the morning, he had come to enjoy his coffee and bagel. He poured the scoops of coffee into the filter, appreciating the sound it made. Or at least appreciating that it was the only sound to be heard in the bungalow. While he didn't want Grimes to be late to the meeting, he couldn't complain about him oversleeping a little bit.

Talking to his daughter the previous night had also helped Casey. Their relationship was still awkward, of course. It would take more than a couple of months to erase the years of his not being a part of her life. But every conversation they found a little more common ground to talk about. Last night, she'd talked about working at the diner, her friends, and her plans for the fall semester. He hadn't said much; he had less to share. But he was happy enough to just listen.

As he sat down to drink his coffee, he grabbed the plans that Grimes had swiped from Interglobal, and glanced through them. He couldn't make much of them himself, though it didn't look like any medical equipment he was familiar with. Whatever it was, Casey didn't like it.

He was busy staring at the plans, and barely noticed the sound of footsteps behind him. "There's some coffee left, Grimes. Just don't take all of it."

The footsteps stopped in their tracks. Casey turned around, saying. "Relax, I didn't spit in…"

Carina was standing there, looking surprised. She was dressed in the dark suit she'd worn the day before, with her shoes in her hands. After a moment, she recovered. "Good morning, John."

"Late night? You guys must have had quite the late night, but why did you need to stay here…" Casey's face fell, and he looked back to the door to the exercise room. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

Carina frowned, her arms folded across her, but didn't say anything.

"Tell me I'm misreading the situation. Please tell me your car wouldn't start, or that Torrance has your hotel under surveillance and it wasn't safe for you to go back, or that you got hit on the head on your mission yesterday and you don't know where you're staying. Just not…"

Carina smiled briefly. "Not what, Casey?"

"Not you and…" Casey couldn't finish the sentence.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, we had a few drinks last night, and one thing led to another, and I spent the night with Agent Grimes."

Casey stared at his mug of coffee, as if hoping that it would open up and swallow him whole. "I think I'm going to be sick," he finally said.

"You know, you don't seem to have a very high opinion of your roommate, John"

"He's not my roommate," Casey protested. "He's just staying here for a while. And I've known him a little longer than you have."

Carina opened the refrigerator, and looked through the various shelves. Finally, she found a grapefruit and rolled it in her hands. "You seem to be overreacting to this a bit. We're just two adults that spent the night together. It has nothing to do with the mission."

"It has to do with the mission because I need team members that I trust to make the right decisions. The decisions that will protect this country and our team. Decisions that don't nauseate me."

She grabbed a knife from the drawer and chopped the grapefruit in half. She sat down at the table, digging a spoon into one of the halves. "You really are overreacting. Haven't you ever used a night between the sheets to relieve some mission-induced stress?"

"Well, that's different."

"Different how? Because you're a man? You know, Sarah was right. You really are a fuddy duddy."

"Fuddy duddy?" Casey couldn't believe that Walker would say that.

"Well, she used a different word, but the point stands."

Casey took a long sip of coffee, giving himself time to calm down. "Carina, I can't have you messing with the heads of my team. Please tell me you haven't jumped on Agent Bailey too."

"That kid could use it. It would help him relax." Carina smiled. "But is this about the team members I have slept with, or the team members I haven't?"

"This has nothing to do with… why do you have to keep bringing up Prague?" Casey protested.

Carina smirked. "Well, you seem upset, so I thought you might be taking this personally." She took another gulp of grapefruit. "But trust me, this has nothing to do with you. I just needed to relieve some steam after yesterday, and I knew that Morgan would be good for it…"

"You knew he'd…you mean this wasn't the first time?"

Carina shrugged. "The second. But it doesn't mean anything, it's just casual."

Casey gave her a pointed look. "Does he know that?"

As if on cue, the door to the bathroom closed, and Morgan walked into the kitchen. He looked back and forth between Casey and Carina. "Well, this is awkward." He turned to the counter. "Ooh, grapefruit. Got any sugar?"

Casey stood up. The coffee was only half-finished, and he hadn't touched his bagel, but he didn't want to be in the same room as the other two. "You two finish your breakfasts. I'm going to go get ready for the briefing." Casey shuddered as he walked out the door.

* * *

The chalk made a high-pitched clank against the board as Casey wrote. He had found the board shoved into a closet the other day, and had decided to drag it into the conference room. He knew it was old school, but Casey didn't care. All of those overly fancy presentations he'd seen used in briefings often seemed to be more about tech geeks showing off their toys, and less about actually disseminating information. So he had erased the sales projections that had been leftover from the prior occupants, and had brought it in for the morning meeting.

He scrawled four names in the corners of the chalkboard, each with a word or two underneath. Roland Erickson, finance. Heather Moseley, recruitment. Thomas Majewski, communications and training. Margaret Johnson, intelligence. Finally, he wrote a fifth name in the center, Peter Torrance, and drew arrows from each of the other names. Underneath Torrance's name, he wrote medicine and technology. Off to the side, he wrote, Interglobal with a question mark.

"Five Elders, each with different roles," he told the team. He pointed the chalk at the first name. "Heather Moseley helped find operatives from the various agencies who could be turned to the Ring. Thomas Majewski coordinated between the Elders, while making sure that Ring agents knew what they needed and nothing else. He did this mainly by separating the Ring into various splinter groups, each of which had no idea of the existence of any other."

"Like Fulcrum?"

Casey nodded at Agent Forrest. "Exactly, like Fulcrum. Only the Elders and a few others knew how the various segments related to each other." After a moment, he pointed back at the chalkboard, and continued. "Margaret Johnson used her connections to gather Intel, both from us and from other countries. Roland Erickson found ways to fund the operation through various channels."

"What's less clear is how Torrance fit in. Medicine and technology would appear to be less vital to the Ring, since most of their weapons were stolen or bought off the black market rather than developed internally. The medicine part links him to Interglobal, though he has no medical training himself." Casey didn't mention the Intersect project, which would certainly have fallen under his watch.

Casey wrote another name on the board. "There was also Jason McCracken, the so-called Director. From outside appearance, he was the head of the Ring. The other Elders did seem to defer to him. However, from what Shaw told me, Torrance did not. In fact, it appeared to be the other way around."

Casey looked over at the four team members seated at the conference table. All seemed interested, though he only glanced at Carina and Grimes briefly. After a moment, Forrest frowned.

"So how does Interglobal come into this? Obviously, they aren't what they claim to be, considering the firepower they greeted us with."

Casey was reluctant to answer this. Shaw had known nothing about the company. While this could mean that they were just a legitimate business with an unhealthy fear of corporate espionage, Casey doubted it. The link couldn't be a coincidence. Torrance and Erickson had both worked at Interglobal, though Torrance had spent a longer time with the company than Erickson. The other Elders had been investors, and while it was possible they did this based on a recommendation from Erickson or Torrance, it seemed unlikely. None of the Elders seemed to have any prior connections, and none seemed very interested in routine socializing within the Agency.

"I don't know," Casey finally said. "That's the missing piece."

"Well, that and what Torrance is after," Forrest added. "We need to go back there. It's our only real lead."

"How?" Bailey asked. "They're going to be expecting us now, and we couldn't even get in before."

"Won't be too hard," Agent Forrest replied. "We go in shooting, things should work to our advantage."

"Go in shooting?" Grimes asked, his eyes wide. "Won't they shoot back?"

"Oh, grow a pair, Grimes. Unless you think maybe you can talk them out of shooting at you."

"There might be another way."

* * *

Everyone turned to look at Carina, though Casey still had trouble maintaining eye contact with her. The incident from the morning was still too fresh on his mind.

"What do you mean, another way?" Forrest asked.

"I got a pretty good look at some of the Interglobal commandos when they entered the building. The guy that seemed to be in charge, I'd seen him before."

Carina waited a moment before saying anything further. Casey guessed that she could see the skepticism written across everyone's faces. Finally, she said, "His name is Martin Sandoval. A couple of years ago I was in Colombia trying to help expose a drug cartel. He was working security for them."

"And now he's working for Interglobal?" Agent Bailey asked, confusion evident on his young face.

Casey shrugged. "The pool of Ring agents is a bit thin. Torrance had to start using mercenaries, I guess. So what exactly do you have in mind, Agent Miller?"

Carina rolled her eyes briefly at the formal address. "My cover was as a soldier of fortune, and he never found out that I was actually DEA. So I should be able to contact him and see if I can work my way onto his team."

"Are you sure that's safe?" Morgan looked concerned, and to Casey's amusement, slightly jealous.

"Of course. I can handle Sandoval. And if he's connected to Torrance, then this may be our best shot at finding him."

Casey had to admit the plan had merit. He noticed that Agent Forrest was shaking her head, though.

"I don't like it. Why should we trust him?"

"We're not," Carina answered. "But I wonder if you're really wondering about trusting me?"

"You'll need someone to watch your back," Forrest said, avoiding the question. "When you meet him, I should be there."

"No you shouldn't. I was in the van when he showed up at Interglobal, so he didn't see me. He did see you. Still, you're right about backup." She turned to Casey. "How about some undercover work, John?" she asked with a brief smile.

"I don't trust her."

Carina had disappeared outside to try to contact Sandoval as soon as the meeting had ended, so she couldn't hear Forrest finally answering her question. Instead, she had stopped Casey as he was headed out the door.

"I gathered that," Casey replied drily.

"You've worked with her before. Is there any reason to believe this plan won't blow up in our face?"

"She's shown…questionable judgment in the past. But she's loyal, and if anyone can convince Sandoval, it's her."

"I'll bet," Forrest responded. "I wonder how close she got with him in Colombia."

Casey chose not to think about that. "I'll be there with her at all times. And I want you to be close by the meeting, too. If things do go bad, we'll need you nearby. And see if you can coordinate with her in setting up the meeting logistics, too."

Forrest nodded. "No problem. What about you?"

"I…have another meeting."

"Really. We have other leads?"

"Maybe."

"Do you need me there to watch your back?"

Casey shook his head. "No danger here. I'm just meeting with a couple of…subcontractors."

"Subcontractors?"

Casey was already halfway out the door, and didn't respond to Forrest's question.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"I can see that a woman's touch has really made a difference in here." Casey smirked and added, "You've been busy, Bartowski."

"Ha ha, Casey. I'm so glad you took time away from your busy schedule to come and insult me."

"Oh please. I'm never too busy for that." Casey leaned back in his chair and gave the younger man another mocking grin. Looking around the kitchen Bartowski now shared with Walker, it was clear that the place had been spruced up. There were new curtains by the kitchen window, the counters had been freshly cleaned, and there were no geek-related posters in sight. He wasn't sure if this was due to Walker's presence or Grimes's absence. Remembering that they'd foisted the bearded annoyance on him, his grin faded.

As if reading Casey's mind, Bartowski said, "Sorry about the whole Morgan thing, by the way. I didn't think he'd go directly to you."

"You can have him back anytime you want. You probably won't even need to apologize for giving him the boot."

"You know, we didn't actually kick him out," Walker said from over by the counter. "It's just that…"

"…well, Morgan isn't really big on the whole personal space thing. We tried to talk to him about it, and he, kinda overreacted. But he'll probably get over it soon, I'm sure. Plus, he seems pretty busy now, with your whole mission thing. And besides, it's not like he's going to do anything like bring a woman home or anything."

Casey grunted, but didn't say anything further. He'd been tempted to tell Walker who her friend was keeping company with, if only for the entertainment value. But he wasn't sure how'd she'd react, especially these days. They'd probably form some Sisterhood Pact of Nerd Lovers or something. "I hope you two aren't planning to try to get Grimes to divulge any mission details. You two are civilians now."

"And yet, here you are, asking for our help." Walker brought over a couple of sandwiches and sat down at the table with them. Casey nodded to her briefly. He was ravenous, thanks to his aborted breakfast, and while he had trouble seeing her as the domestic type, he welcomed the lunch.

"We're a bit understaffed at the moment," he said between bites. "So we need any perspective we can get. Unofficially, of course."

"Ah so General Beckman doesn't know you're here. Interesting. John Casey, the rule bender. Next you're going to be organizing sit-ins and playing Crosby, Stills, and Nash songs on your guitar."

"Are you going to help or not, Numb Nuts?"

"Casey." Walker looked like she couldn't decide between amusement and taking offense. She probably missed all of this, Casey figured. She didn't say anything further, but watched Bartowski as he headed over to the kitchen counter and grabbed a couple of pieces of paper.

"So this Interglobal company you asked about did turn out to be pretty interesting. They're not publicly traded though, so it was a bit hard to find much on them. I mean, hard for the average person, not me," he boasted. Walker smiled at him, and put her hand inside his.

Casey resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. "So what _did_ you find, Bartowski?"

"Well, I admit I'm not really much of an expert on economics, but I'm not really sure how Interglobal can possibly stay in business. I couldn't find much of anything about their revenues. Their CEO and board of directors don't even have MBAs. Even though their supposed to design and build medical equipment, I couldn't find any pending patents or production information. And they don't seem to be much for advertising either."

Casey grunted. It was what he suspected. Interglobal valued its privacy, too much so for a company interested in staying in business. It didn't tell him anything about Torrance, but he knew he couldn't ask Bartowski about that. As he had told them, they were civilians, and they could only know what they needed to know.

"There's one other thing I want you to look over." Casey handed Bartowski the plans that Grimes had found in Interglobal headquarters. The younger man glanced at them briefly, and his eyebrow shot up. It wasn't a flash, but clearly they meant something to him.

"Uh, Casey, this looks like…"

"I know." Casey saw Walker look over Bartowski's shoulder, and then shoot him an alarmed glance.

"It's not the same, though." Bartowski said after a few moments of perusing the plans. "It does remind me of the documents my… that Orion had." Bartowski frowned, and Walker put her hand on his shoulder. While it was a very couple-like gesture, Casey didn't feel any temptation to comment on it. He knew the wounds over Bartowski's father's death were still raw.

"It's weird, it's almost like it's backwards."

"What, it takes your skills away from you?" If they ever had to retrieve it, Casey would be sure to send Grimes first. He had less to lose.

"No, it looks more like the first Intersect than the second. I don't know. Maybe it takes away knowledge or memories, like some 'Eternal Sunshine' thing."

"Bartowski, you know I have no idea what you're saying."

"Yeah, sorry Casey. You know, we really need to get you a NetFlix subscription."

Bartowski continued to flip through the binder, curiosity clearly marked upon his face. Walker continued to look over at him with concern. Even if Bartowski didn't, Walker could read the situation. She clearly guessed that Interglobal was connected to the Ring. She didn't say anything, though, and only silently watched Bartowski.

"Can I keep these?" Bartowski asked. "Maybe I'll figure out something more after a bit more studying." Casey nodded.

After eating in silence for a few minutes, Bartowski excused himself for a minute. As soon as he was out of earshot, Walker turned to Casey.

"It's the Ring, isn't it?"

"You know I can't tell you anything, Walker," Casey chided, though not brusquely.

"You know we'll never be completely out of the Agency, as long as the Intersect is still in Chuck's head. And if they're still out there, they could come after him."

"I know. He's safer with you than anyone else, though. And the Intersect is still working, right?"

"I guess. It hasn't really been put to the test though, lately. Promise me you'll do everything you can if you find out the Ring wants Chuck."

Casey merely nodded, though he was surprised she felt the need to ask. Finishing his sandwich, he glanced at his watch. "I have to meet my team."

"Good luck."

"Walker." Casey said her name as he was getting ready to leave.

"What is it, Casey?"

"It's not the same, you know."

Walker smiled briefly, recognizing the meaning behind his words. "You mean you're having trouble with your new team?"

"It's just…not the same."

Walker didn't say anything further. Casey could see the wistfulness in her eyes. He'd seen some of it in Bartowski too. They both missed the action. But a promise was a promise.

Walker smiled briefly and headed back to the kitchen, and Casey let himself out the door.

* * *

"Exactly what kind of a place for a meeting is this?"

"Sandoval's a bit…eccentric. He likes to meet in karaoke bars."

It was evening, and Casey had just arrived with Carina at the location Sandoval had chosen for the rendezvous. It was dimly lit and somewhat crowded, not exactly a place he would have picked himself. And that would have been true even without the cacophonous sound currently coming from the stage.

He glanced over at one of the tables, and could see that Forrest had taken position, along with Grimes and Bailey. Hopefully, that would help avoid any trouble. It wasn't that he thought Carina was a traitor, exactly, but he wanted as many sets of friendly eyes as he could get. Even if two of them were attached to Grimes.

Casey still didn't like the situation. They were putting a lot of faith into Sandoval remembering, and trusting, Carina.

"So you really believe he's going to want to listen to you?"

"He agreed to meet, didn't he," Carina replied. "And we were pretty close in Colombia."

"I'll bet," Casey commented drily.

"It wasn't like that. Contrary to what you think, John, I don't sleep with every man who comes my way."

Casey snorted, but didn't reply. He continued to follow Carina as she weaved her way through the tables, until he saw her gesture across the room.

"I see him," she said, and headed over to one of the tables.

* * *

"_I'm forever yours, Faithfulleee..."_

"Ugh," Forrest commented. "Why does it always have to be Journey?"

Morgan turned away from watching the mulleted crooner on stage. "Hey, I happen to like Journey."

"Figures." Morgan watched her give the crowd a quick scan. "They just walked in."

"Great. So which one of these guys is Sandoval?" Agent Bailey asked, leaning back in his chair. He looked bored to Morgan, but at least he hadn't thrown up again. Maybe he was getting used to the idea of undercover assignments.

Agent Forrest looked over at Bailey, and shrugged. "Not sure. Half the guys in here could be drug runners."

"So, exactly what is our cover for this anyway?" Morgan quickly changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the idea that the room could be full of the armed and dangerous.

Agent Forrest looked thoughtful for a moment, then gave Morgan a malicious smile. "How about this? I'm on a date with Agent Bailey over here. And you're his slightly creepy roommate who decided to tag along."

Morgan frowned. It hit a bit too close to home for his taste. He turned to Agent Bailey. "Gee Andy, I had no idea you liked older women."

Forrest made a Casey-like grunt, but didn't respond.

"That's ok, this wouldn't be my kind of night out anyway," Bailey responded, straightening his chair to let a waiter by. "I'm more about staying home and watching the Mets."

"Romantic," Carina responded, before nudging over to the other end of the room. "Looks like they've found Sandoval."

* * *

"Ah, Mary Anne. How wonderful to see you again." The man embraced Carina in greeting. She had informed Casey that she had gone by the name Mary Anne Hansen in Colombia, so the greeting didn't come as a shock to him.

When Sandoval released Carina, Casey took a moment to study him. While he didn't look much like a mercenary at the moment, he certainly was dressed for his current surroundings. A Hawaiian shirt wrapped around his large frame, untucked in his khaki shorts. His hair was slicked back, with a pair of shades atop his head. His eyes, though, gave him away. Casey could see a hardness there, likely a by-product of his years in the jungle.

Sandoval in turn took a moment to study Casey. "Mary Anne, I see you brought your…father?"

"My associate, actually," Carina said overtop Casey's growl. "Vince Rutherford, meet Martin Sandoval."

Sandoval looked at Casey with amusement, before finally taking his hand. "I like the growl. He's intimidating at least."

Sandoval motioned for them to sit down, and Casey followed Carina's lead. "Now, Martin," she said, her voice friendly but firm, "how about you tell us what this mission is about."

"All in good time." Casey watched Sandoval's eyes study the room, a watchful look on his face. He hoped that the others had sense enough to blend in.

The mercenary turned back to them. "So, Mary Anne. Business has not been so good to you?"

"Oh, there's always work. Times like these make governments desperate. It also makes them topple quite frequently, so the job security isn't so great."

"And you've come back to Los Angeles?"

"A good place to look for work. Wouldn't want to live here, though."

"No, I wouldn't either. Though the nightlife can't be beat. You don't have karaoke bars like this in Colombia."

Casey silently watched the conversation continue between Sandoval and Carina. It was clear the older man was subtly questioning her, checking to see for any break in her story. To her credit, Carina evaded every trap without breaking a sweat. She really was a pro.

Finally, she said, "Alright Martin. I think we're pretty well caught up. What's the job?"

"Actually, that can wait just a little bit longer. First I want you to do something for me," Sandoval's smile wasn't malicious exactly, but Casey still didn't like it.

A moment later, the bar's spotlight shifted to their table, and the crowd seated around them started to applaud. "Ah," Sandoval said. "I think it's our turn."

He stood up and motioned for Casey and Carina to follow. A moment later, they were climbing the steps up to the stage. "Is he serious?" Casey asked.

"Told you he's eccentric."

As they reached the stage, Casey glanced at the prompter than turned back to Sandoval. "You can't seriously expect us to…"

"I can't trust you if I don't believe you're willing to risk your lives for me. So the least you can do is prove you're willing to risk some embarrassment. Now you two go up there and sing. I'll provide backup." He handed Casey and Carina two microphones.

If Casey's annoyed growl was picked up by the microphone, the polite applause from the crowd was enough to drown it out.

* * *

"_Now I've had the time of my life, _

_no I never felt like this before."_

"Wow." Morgan said, staring at the spectacle on stage. "Is this some sort of weird kind of initiation, like a gang thing?"

"Shut up, and keep your eyes open," Forrest barked, though Morgan could see that she was also somewhat fascinated by the site.

"I never would have guessed that the Colonel could sing," Bailey commented.

"No kidding." Morgan reached for his phone. "Do you think the Government would have a problem with me recording this? I know a few people you would really want to see it."

"Put the phone away, Grimes."

Morgan shrugged, and turned his attention back to the stage, where Carina had started warbling.

"_Cause I've had the time of my life_

_and I owe it all to you"_

Morgan watched, entranced.

"Ok, so she's not as good a singer as the COlonel."

Morgan was about to reply to Bailey's comment, when a waiter approached the table.

"Could I interest you in any cocktails? Beer, wine?"

Forrest shook her head, but the waiter continued. "Perhaps I could interest you in putting your hands on the table."

"What?" Morgan turned his attention to the waiter. The muzzle of a gun was clearly visible from his shirt sleeve. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two other men appear behind Forrest and Bailey.

* * *

"_You're the one thing I can't get enough of_

_So I'll tell you something_

_This could be love, because…"_

Casey felt ridiculous as he sang the words on the teleprompter. Whatever information Sandoval had on Torrance had better be worth all of this.

He could only imagine the reaction he would get from Grimes when all of this was over. It would probably require several hours' worth of intimidation to get him to keep his trap shut, and that was an awful lot of time and effort to devote to the bearded pest.

He glanced over at the table and was surprised to see it surrounded by three men. He saw a flash of silver in one of the hands.

Damn.

He surveyed the room, but there was no quick way over there. Too many people in the way.

The song's saxophone solo had just started, and he turned to Sandoval.

"Relax," the man said quietly. "Everything is fine. But I do think it's in your best interest to stay up here. Now turn around. It's time for the big finish."

* * *

_Apparently, a side effect of a long road trip and an iPod on shuffle is writing a scene set in a karaoke bar (Very Important Note: no song referenced in this chapter is actually on my iPod). And of course it was fun bringing in Chuck and Sarah. Will they be back – we'll see)._

_Please review and let me know how this story is going. Too slow? Plot doesn't make sense? You wished the Carina/Morgan scene was shown, and described in complete detail?_

_Just so you know, I'll be happy to work on the first two. But if you do want the third, then, well, I'm concerned for you._


	10. Chapter 10

_I don't own "Chuck." I also don't own "Jersey Shore." Not that it has anything to do with this story, but I just want to make sure you blame somebody else._

**Chapter 10**

Once the song had mercifully ended, Casey, Carina and Sandoval climbed back down the stairs. Stealing a glance across the room, Casey could see that the table that Forrest, Grimes, and Bailey had once occupied was now empty. There was no sign of the men who had surrounded them either.

"I think it is time for us to leave," Casey heard Sandoval say behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man approach and stand in front of him. Casey found himself take a step backwards; clearly there was a defensive line somewhere that was running low in steroids thanks to this guy's daily regimen. Casey prided himself on his fighting prowess, but Sandoval's bodyguard would really put him to the test.

Carina nodded to Casey, and motioned that they should follow. Instead of the front entrance, they found an emergency exit, and were soon approaching a black sedan. The burly guard headed to the driver's entrance, while Sandoval motioned for Casey to take the front passenger seat.

"You disappoint me, Mary Anne," Sandoval said after the car had left the bar.

"What?" Casey could hear a slight note of uncertainty in Carina's voice, and hoped that Sandoval didn't detect it too.

"You used to be careful. You would never let yourself be followed like that." Casey relaxed slightly, realizing that Sandoval hadn't realized they were connected with Forrest and the rest. At least not yet.

Carina barely missed a beat. "Ah. Well, we had no idea what kind of a high-profile gig this was. And how do you know they weren't following you?"

"This is nothing to joke about, Mary Anne. This is a big operation, and you can't leave anything for granted."

"So who were these people anyway?"

Casey looked back to see Sandoval shrug. "Some government operatives, I think. I wasn't told."

"But weren't they your men that grabbed them?"

Sandoval shook his head. "There are others working for my employer as well, and we don't really communicate with them. My bosses don't leave anything to chance, and they don't like having to rely on anyone too much."

It was just like Fulcrum and all of those other splinter groups, Casey thought. A bunch of left hands not knowing what the right hand was doing.

"Your employers certainly sound mysterious," Carina commented. "Exactly who are they?"

"They are wealthy individuals who value those that are not curious."

Sandoval didn't say anything further for a few minutes. Casey managed to catch Carina's eye through the car's rearview mirror. Her face briefly betrayed her concern, before she turned back to look out the window. He couldn't tell if what he had seen was concern for their teammates, or just for Grimes, or for themselves.

A minute later, they pulled into a suburban street. "We are almost here," Sandoval announced.

It didn't look like a mercenary's type of place, with several well-manicured lawns and flower beds. It might have been the type of place he had once imagined back when he was Alex Coburn, though that was long past. He wasn't sure it was a place he'd ever want to live in anyway. Close-knit communities were nosy communities.

Carina seemed to be surprised by there destination as well. When the car stopped and the burly guard motioned for them to leave the car, she asked, "Is this your place, Martin?"

"No. Just a little place I…borrowed."

"Then the owners…"

"Are on a week-long cruise to the Caribbean, from what I understand. I only need to be here for a few days. They will return to find a less-stocked cupboard, but no other reason to be suspicious."

The burly guard produced a set of picks from his pocket, and picked the locks with a nimbleness that belied his size. Once inside, Sandoval typed the appropriate code into the alarm system without a moment's hesitation. He motioned for Casey and Carina to go through a door to the right.

They found themselves in a sizable, homey kitchen, with a large round table in the middle. Carina sat down, while Casey remained standing.

Looking around to make sure the other two were out of earshot, Casey whispered, "When we get our chance, I'll take the walking boulder while you deal with Sandoval."

"No."

"No?"

"We can still use Sandoval to infiltrate Torrance's organization. We can't give that up now."

"And our team? You'd risk them?"

"Yes, if we have to. They signed up for this. They knew the dangers."

"Even your Boy Toy?"

Carina sighed. "He's not my… Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but maybe you should have a little more faith in them. Maybe they don't need us to rescue them." She flashed a wicked smile. "And once they get themselves free, I'll be sure to let Morgan know you were so worried about him."

Casey growled.

"Oh please, we both know you care. Face it, you're a fraud, John Casey."

Casey smirked. "Maybe so, but I'm quite willing to hit a woman."

Carina snorted. "Save it for later. We've got to ingratiate ourselves with Sandoval now. Forrest and the rest can take care of themselves."

* * *

We're going to die.

The foul-tasting cloth in his mouth kept Morgan from actually saying these thoughts out loud. But that didn't make them feel any less real to him.

The pitch black of his surroundings didn't help either. Morgan had been afraid of the dark until he was eight-years-old, and some of his childhood boogieman nightmares were coming back to him now. Though the boogieman of his childhood dreams hadn't been armed to the teeth like his new captors were.

At least none of his new sources of fear were inside the bed of the large truck with them right now. So if nothing else, Morgan's doom could be postponed for a little longer.

He heard a slight scratching sound from beside him. Unable to articulate his fear, he only managed a nervous "Hmmph!"

"Shh!" The response came from beside him. Deciding that the voice was from Agent Forrest, Morgan returned to his silent panicking.

A few minutes later, Morgan felt the truck stop, and the sound of footsteps came from outside. The back door slid open, and he felt himself blinded by the glare of a flashlight. "C'mon," a gruff voice said.

With his wrists and ankles bound, Morgan wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to do that. However, a quick movement from beside him interrupted his thoughts. He heard a loud grunt, and the flashlight clanked on the truck floor.

Before he could react, Morgan felt a strong hand pull him out of the truck and onto the ground. The impact almost knocked him out, but he was still able to see the muzzle of a gun pointed at him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Morgan could see Agent Forrest kneeling over one of the men that had apprehended them at the bar. Her hand held what appeared to be one of the bar's knives over the man's throat. She looked up, and studied Morgan and the other man briefly. Finally, after what felt like hours to Morgan, she dropped the knife.

A third man approached Forrest, and slapped her across the face. "Nice try," he said in a low voice. Morgan was pulled to his feet, and dragged down a dark alley. He could hear Forrest and Bailey behind him, though Forrest couldn't speak with the gag back in her mouth.

Morgan watched the gravel move past underneath him, trying to ignore the panic threatening to overtake him. Finally, after what felt like hours, he was pushed into what looked like an old warehouse. Morgan could see little evidence that anyone had been there in a long time, other than three rickety folding chairs. He was pushed into one of them, while Bailey and Forrest were shoved into the chairs next to him. Each was tied to their chair, and the gags were finally removed.

"Now," the first man, who Morgan now recognized as the waiter from the karaoke bar, "which of you is going to tell us what we want to know?"

He walked between the three of them, glancing closely at each in turn. Morgan wasn't sure if it was in his best interest to appear tough or weak. Appearing weak would make him seem like he could be easily swayed, and therefore a likely candidate for torture. Appearing strong would make him seem like he was the leader of the group and would know more than the others. Making him a likely candidate for torture.

As Morgan wrestled with this dilemma, the man walked past him, and paused in front of Bailey. He nodded to the other men, and they grabbed Bailey's wrist while he untied him. The leader and the second man began to pull Bailey away.

"Please, no! I don't know anything!"

"We'll see," Morgan heard the first man say, as they dragged Bailey into a room at the other end of the warehouse.

* * *

"Cough."

"What?" Morgan turned his eyes away from the one remaining guard and looked over at Agent Forrest.

"Cough," she repeated again.

Uncertainly, Morgan began his best dry heaving, before finally collapsing into a hacking cough.

"Quick, he has asthma!" he heard Agent Forrest say. "He needs his inhaler."

"He'll be fine," the guard shot back.

"He's not going to tell you anything if he passes out. He'll be useless to you. Do you think your bosses would like that? The inhaler's in the back of the truck. I heard it fall out of his pocket earlier."

The guard considered this for a moment, then quickly hurried outside. Once gone, Agent Forrest said, "Now rub up against my leg."

"Um, I'm kind of seeing someone…"

"I mean to push my pant leg up, you idiot! I have a knife there."

Morgan wiggled out of one of his shoes, and pushed up Agent Forrest's pant sleeve with his foot. Soon a knife sheath came into view.

"Now pull it out."

"How?" Morgan was still bound to the chair.

"Can you get it out with your foot. Without stabbing me?"

It took a few tries, but soon the knife was out. Agent Forrest leaned over on her chair until it fell, and she landed on Morgan's lap.

"You know, this is really…"

"I needed to cushion my fall, you twit. I don't want the other two hearing anything." As Agent Forrest said this, a shriek from the other room underscored the urgency.

"I don't think they'll be able to hear anything over that," Morgan commented, trying not to think about what was going on in there. Nothing good could produce those sounds.

"Just shut up and let me work." In only a few seconds, Agent Forrest grabbed the knife and cut away her binds. Rather than freeing Morgan, she quietly moved towards the entrance, and snuck outside. A moment later, Morgan heard a faint grunt.

Agent Forrest returned, wiping the knife down with the rag that had been shoved into Morgan's mouth only a few minutes ago. "One down," she said quietly.

Morgan's eyes widened, but he didn't comment. Agent Forrest freed him, and motioned towards the door on the other end. He hadn't heard any more shrieks from in there, but he wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad sign.

"You think he talked?" Morgan asked.

"Probably. Kid doesn't seem to have it in him to resist." Forrest handed Morgan the knife.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"I've got a gun now, and you'll need something."

Morgan gulped.

"You're not going to be able to talk your way through this situation, Agent Grimes. Now come on!"

* * *

"You two are lucky."

Sandoval had reappeared in the kitchen, and rooted through the cabinets looking for something to eat. He was now seated at the kitchen table with Casey and Carina, munching on a granola bar.

"I lost a couple of my men the other day on a mission," Sandoval explained further. "So I do have a couple of openings."

"That's great, Martin!" Carina said. "You know you can count on us."

"I hope that's the case, Mary Anne. My bosses can be very demanding. We can't have any more issues like this evening."

"But I'm sure those people you caught will talk, and tell your employers what they need to know. Then we'll find out how they knew to follow you."

Casey nodded. He couldn't imagine Grimes or Bailey holding out for long in an interrogation. That definitely put them at risk.

"So, can you tell us what the gig is, Martin?"

"I can only tell you that we are headed east."

"East?" Carina said in surprise. "Then the mission isn't around here?"

"My current employers have me traveling all over the country. I just like to use Los Angeles as a home base because I like the city. But now we don't have much time. We have a plane leaving in three hours."

"Three hours?" Casey shared Carina's surprise. That didn't leave them much time to prepare. It also meant they were leaving Agent Forrest and the others behind.

"You'll pack light. But don't worry, I'll send Hector with you to help." Sandoval motioned towards the ox-like guard, who was currently standing over them. "He will drive you to the airstrip when you are ready."

As they stood up, Sandoval said, "It is good to see you again, Mary Anne. I'm glad we'll get the chance to work together once more."

"Likewise, Martin." Casey couldn't feel much enthusiasm, though. They were about to head across country, being forced to abandon their own teammates in their time of need, all to chase a possible lead that might not even pan out.

Casey liked gambling, but he'd prefer to at least be able to see his hand before he threw all his chips on the table.

* * *

_I hope everyone is enjoying this story. I also want to point out that I've started a separate collection, "Casey vs. the Fifth Elder: B-Sides, Rarities and Live Tracks" - a bunch of throwaway scenes taking place in this story. The first scene - "Casey vs. the Comic Book" is up now._

_As always, please review to let me know how good, bad, or ugly this story is going._


	11. Chapter 11

_And now, three things I don't get:_

_1) Theoretical physics._

_2) The apparently enduring appeal of 'Matchbox 20.'_

_3) Any royalties for 'Chuck,' what with me not owning it and all._

**Chapter 11**

"Stand behind me!"

Though only whispered, Agent Forrest's words practically echoed in Morgan's ear. They also seemed very unnecessary to him. Of course he was going to stay behind her. She had the gun, the years of experience, and what seemed like a robotic lack of fear. He had a knife, barely any training, and the sudden need for a bathroom.

Agent Forrest quietly and quickly moved across the room, approaching the steel door that separated them from their kidnappers. It had been eerily quiet for the last few minutes. Whatever they'd been doing to Bailey, they seem to have finished with it. Morgan hoped that meant they were taking a soda break, and not what he dreaded thinking about.

Moving with a speed that made Morgan wonder if he'd missed it, Agent Forrest kicked open the door and fired her gun inside. Before he could even react to the sound, she jumped aside to avoid the answering gunfire that erupted from the other room. Behind her, Morgan tripped and fell, almost stabbing himself with the knife. He rolled himself off to the side, hoping to avoid any stray bullets. Face down on the ground, he heard more gunfire, but none hit him. Finally, there was silence, then the sound of footsteps moving away from him.

After the warehouse had been refreshingly free of the sound of gunfire for a minute or so, Morgan pushed himself up. Cautiously he walked into the other room. One of the kidnappers was lying on the ground, blood oozing underneath him. Morgan resisted the temptation to gag, and looked up at Agent Forrest. She was leaning over a prone figure slumped over a chair. Agent Bailey.

"Nice of you to come and help," Forrest turned and said to him. "You were supposed to be my backup."

"Well, if I'd had a gun…"

"Then you probably would have shot me. Get over here and help me untie him."

Morgan did as ordered. The binds were tight, and he was too afraid to cut Agent Bailey with his knife for progress to come quickly. As he was struggling, he asked, "Where's the third guy? The waiter?"

"He ran off. I heard the truck drive off a moment ago, so he's well ahead of us. Nothing we can do about him right now."

"As long as he isn't lurking around here, I'm ok with that." Morgan hazarded a look at Bailey. There was a distinct bruise under one eye, and a nasty cut over the other one. Agent Forrest had loosened Bailey's other arm, and was busy trying to staunch the blood flowing from his face. Bailey's shirt had been removed, and there was a frightening burn mark on his chest.

"Jesus. They really worked him over." Morgan noticed something on the ground near Bailey. "Is that a blowtorch?"

"Guys?" The words were faint, but clear. Bailey was awake.

"You ok, Andy?" Morgan asked.

"I tried not to talk, but…"

"Don't worry about that now. We're safe, and they're gone. We'll deal with it later." Agent Forrest's voice was gentle, even kind.

"Grimes, haven't you finished over there yet? Christ, you're useless!" Morgan sighed, as Forrest's tone had returned back to normal.

* * *

Among her other skills, Agent Forrest turned out to be quite good at hotwiring cars. Morgan had watched in amazement as she had managed to start the engine of a conveniently unlocked Mazda parked nearby. Not for the first time, Morgan wished he had an Intersect of his own, so he could pull out the occasional useful skill.

Of course, Morgan had to admit, it wasn't as if he was just an Intersect away from being a legitimate member of the operation. He knew that even if he had a computer stuck in his head, he could never be the agent that Chuck was. When he'd learned that his friend had been working for the CIA, a part of him hadn't been surprised. Hang around Chuck Bartowski long enough, and you learn that he can do anything. Morgan was just the goofball who always hung around him. Hardly the stuff that heroism is built from.

He'd had his moment of glory back at Interglobal's headquarters. At least he'd felt like he'd accomplished something. But really, what had he done other than convince one guard with questionable judgment to let them pass. For everything else, he'd needed Agent Forrest's guidance. And in the end, they hadn't succeeded.

So, with his one questionable bit of success long behind him, he'd been mostly useless back at the warehouse. He couldn't outsmart his captors, and he certainly couldn't fight them. Heck, he could barely loosen Agent Bailey's binds. Instead, he'd had to rely on Forrest to do everything.

Morgan thought about this during the long ride back, and was soon stewing in his own pool of self pity. Agent Forrest hadn't said anything either, leaving the ride back to Burbank uncomfortably quiet. Only the sound of Bailey's wheezing broke the silence, as he struggled to sleep in the backseat of the car.

Morgan looked over at the femal agent. She had been in complete control back there, very different from back at Interglobal in Phoenix. He'd been surprised that she hadn't managed to escape when they'd first arrived at the warehouse.

"So how come you didn't use the big knife before, when we were in the truck?" Morgan asked.

"What?"

"Well, you had that other knife. Why bother with the kitchen knife from the bar? You never would have been able to fight off all three of those guys with that little thing."

"I know."

"Then why?"

Forrest smirked. "I wanted them to underestimate me. Guys like that don't have a lot of imagination, and only think based on their own preconceived ideas. One of those is usually that women are weak and helpless. So I figured I'd help them along the way with that, so they'd be sure to underestimate me later."

"But Bailey still had to get tortured."

Agent Forrest sighed. "I'd hoped they'd choose to interrogate me instead. I could handle it. He couldn't."

Morgan sat there silently. She hadn't said that he wouldn't have been able to handle it either, but she must have been thinking it. He couldn't blame her. He wasn't sure what he would have done either.

* * *

After several failed attempts to reach Colonel Casey, it was decided that they should try to find him at home. It was unlikely that they were still at the karaoke bar, and even more unlikely that Casey would have brought Sandoval home with them. Plus, there was a good chance Casey and Carina's cover had been blown, if the escaped kidnapper had managed to get word to the mercenary. The best thing Morgan and the others could do is get word to their teammates about the danger, and find a safe place to tend to Bailey.

The bungalow appeared deserted as they approached it. Morgan watched Agent Forrest pull out her firearm as they approached. "Hold on, I can get in," Morgan said, moving towards the door. He didn't like the idea of any gunfire in his friend's courtyard.

If Forrest was surprised that Morgan knew the alarm code, she didn't express it. Instead, she helped Bailey inside and onto the couch. Morgan looked around, but saw no sign of Casey or Carina. In the kitchen, he saw the dishes left over from breakfast still on the table. If Casey had been back, he hadn't had time to clean up.

Morgan returned back to the living room to find Forrest looking around the room. She gave a grunt of approval as she passed by the picture of Reagan standing by the computer. As she sat down at the desk, she said "We need to contact General Beckman."

"Do you think Casey contacted her?"

"I doubt it. It's tough to explain needing to call a US General when you're supposed to be a gun for hire. But she needs to know what's going on. Now, go find some bandages and some ointment and do something about him," she didn't look up, but gestured toward Bailey.

Morgan could see the young man was still in bad shape, and he hurried off to the bathroom. Medical training, though, wasn't exactly his specialty, and he had no idea which of the various bottles in Casey's cabinet was best for burns. Another thing he couldn't do right. He glanced at each bottle, studying the warning labels. As he put away the fifth bottle in frustration, he heard a knock on the door.

Agent Forrest was already standing by the door like a coil about to spring, the gun back in her hand. Morgan hurried past her, saying, "Wait, it might just be a neighbor."

"Don't be a mor…" Forrest wasn't able to finish her words before Morgan had peeked through the eyehole and opened the door.

* * *

As soon as she was inside, Eleanor Woodcomb studied the scene in front of her intently. She glanced at Morgan only briefly, before giving Forrest a long, probing glance. The agent hadn't decided how to react yet, as she had stepped back but not lowered her gun. For her part, Ellie seemed less interested in the firearm than in the person holding it.

Finally, the doctor shifted her attention to Bailey lying on the couch. Without any further hesitation, she quickly strode over there and kneeled over her new patient. "I don't see signs of infection. Morgan, get a cool, wet cloth and some iodine for the cuts." She turned back to Agent Forrest. "You. Tell me what did this."

"That's not something you need to know."

"I don't want the details. I just need to know what caused the burns."

"It's ok," Morgan spoke up. "I can vouch for her. It was a blowtorch," he said to Ellie.

Ellie looked surprised, and shook her head. "Ok. Thanks for telling me. I think it's going to be ok, but he really should go to a hospital."

"No hospital," Morgan heard Bailey mumble. "No time."

Ellie sighed. "Alright. I'll see what else I can do. Morgan," she turned her gaze back to him, "iodine, now."

After a few minutes of searching, Morgan found what he was looking for. Returning to the living room, he saw Ellie placing a cloth over Bailey's chest while Agent Forrest stood over them. She was clearly staring at Ellie, trying to figure out why she was there.

"You're Bartowski's sister, aren't you? The doctor." Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Morgan stepped back into the hallway and watched.

Ellie didn't answer, keeping her attention on Bailey. Finally she said, "Yes."

"What you're seeing here, it's not…"

"I know who Colonel Casey is," Ellie interrupted, before looking up at the other woman. "And I know who you are."

"He shouldn't be telling you…"

"He didn't. But my brother described you pretty well. He also told me how you used my husband and almost wrecked our wedding."

Morgan watched Forrest's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "It was a bachelor party. I'd hardly call him blameless."

"Maybe, maybe not. But Devon is a good man. He'd have helped you, if you'd been honest. But I suppose that's not how people like you think." Without turning away from Forrest, Ellie then asked, "Morgan did you find the iodine yet?"

Slightly embarrassed, Morgan returned to the living room. The doctor wordlessly took the iodine from Morgan, and dabbed some on the cuts on Bailey's face. The younger man hissed in pain, but otherwise stayed quiet.

Ellie stood up. "There may be something in there to help him sleep." She didn't object when Forrest moved to follow her.

"I'm so sorry," Morgan heard Bailey whisper when they had gone. "I talked. I couldn't handle it."

Morgan shook his head. "I think they were going to kill us, Andy. I don't think there was anyway around it. You did what you had to do. And besides, maybe the last one of them hasn't gotten to Sandoval yet. Casey and Carina will be ok."

Bailey shook his head, but couldn't reply before Ellie returned with a small white bottle and a spoon. "Take this," she held out the spoon, and Bailey reluctantly obeyed.

"How long is he going to be out?" Forrest asked.

"Long enough. He needs rest. Not as much as he needs a hospital, but I case that's not an option."

"That's my call," Forrest said. "And you shouldn't have been here to see any of this."

"I wish I hadn't been. But you obviously needed help."

Forrest's eyes narrowed. "And why did you come here anyway?"

"Actually, I came to deliver a message."

* * *

"John Casey came to my house tonight. He called me his sister, and said he needed to pick up some clothes for a trip he was taking with his girlfriend. I assume the girlfriend he was talking about was the redhead with him. There was also someone else, some guy that looked like he could bench press Cleveland."

Ellie told all of this to Morgan, barely paying Agent Forrest and the now sleeping Bailey any attention.

"And what did you do?" Morgan asked.

"I've learned well enough to take a lot of things without question. I assumed it was all a show for the guy that was with him. So I didn't interfere, and let Casey do what he needed to do. They left about three hours ago."

"Did they say where they were going?" Forrest demanded.

Ellie shook her head. "The way he was talking about it, I figured it would be best for me not to ask." Morgan felt a surge of annoyance at Casey for putting Ellie in danger, but didn't say anything.

"He did say something else, though. He said, 'I meant to send you that info on that romantic getaway I took years ago. But I'm such an idiot, I forgot it on my computer."

Forrest pursed her lips in thought. "Computer." She moved over to the desk, and clicked on the terminal. "Hmm," she said after a moment. "Did he say anything that would tell us his password? What were the exact words he used?"

Ellie thought for a moment. "'Hey sis, hope you don't mind me picking up some things. The young lady and I are going on a last minute vacation.' Then later on, as he was leaving he said, 'Oh by the way, I totally forgot I was going to get you the info on that romantic getaway I took a while back. But you know me, I'm such an idiot, of course I left it on my computer. I'll get it to you when I return.'"

Agent Forrest shook her head. "I don't see anything there. But he must have left us something. Why go to the trouble otherwise?"

Morgan sighed when a thought occurred to him. "Ellie, you're sure he said 'idiot'?"

"Uh huh."

He turned to Agent Forrest. "Type in my name."

Forrest chuckled, then a moment later, "Yeah, that worked."

Great, Morgan thought to himself. He finally gets to be the one to figure out a password, and it turns out to be at his own expense.

As Morgan watched Forrest work her way through Casey's files, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Ellie, who nodded toward the front door. He silently followed her outside.

* * *

Once the door was shut, Ellie said, "Morgan, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Despite his experiences from the last few hours, Morgan replied, "Yes."

Ellie nodded, then shook her head. "I'm not sure your partner in there considers your safety a number one priority. And with Casey missing, you need to watch out for yourself."

"Agent Forrest may be a little…gruff, but she's a good agent."

"Maybe," Ellie didn't sound convinced. "But it's obvious that she believes in completing her mission regardless of the cost. I'm sure you can see that from what's going on with your other partner, not to mention the conversation you were just eavesdropping on."

"Um…"

"Don't worry about that now. Just remember, she may not be looking out for you, Morgan. She's not Sarah."

And I'm not Chuck, Morgan thought to himself.

Almost as if reading his thoughts, Ellie said, "Look, I know you're not my brother, and I don't get to nag you like I can with him. And I know that the CIA believes in you, since they brought you in on whatever this mission is." Morgan wasn't sure about that, but didn't argue. Ellie put her hand on his shoulder again. "But I don't want to see you get hurt."

Morgan grinned. "Jeez Ellie, I never would have thought you cared."

Ellie made a face. "If you die, Chuck will be very upset. Things are finally getting to be normal for him and Sarah, and I'd hate to see a little thing like your death get in the way of that."

"Very funny," Morgan said, and turned to head back inside. Ellie didn't follow him.

"I'll be next door if your other partner needs any further medical attention." She paused for a moment, then reached out and embraced Morgan. "Just promise me you'll stay safe."

Morgan watched her walk to her house, and headed back into the bungalow.

* * *

"I found something," Agent Forrest said when Morgan returned to her side by the desk. She didn't appear concerned by his brief disappearance, and was instead focused on the computer.

On the screen, Morgan could see a satellite map. There was a small, blinking red dot currently over the middle of Missouri. "I think Colonel Casey is wearing a homing device. He must have turned it on before leaving. He meant for us to find this."

"So, Casey and Carina…"

"Are on a plane, judging by how quickly they got to Missouri. And that plane is heading east."

* * *

_A bit of a longer chapter (for me, anyway), despite being Casey-free. I hope the story is holding everyone's interest despite the shifts in POV. Please review and let me know how things are going!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Sorry for the delay on updating this story. I temporarily switched my focus to the Anniversary Challenge story, and fell behind on this one._

_I don't own 'Chuck.' I used to, but my college roommate took it, leaving behind his copy of Hootie and the Blowfish's "Cracked Rear View" instead._

_I still haven't forgiven him._

**Chapter 12**

The plane jerked in the air as if it was flying through a plastic bag. Casey gritted his teeth and held on to the armrest tightly. He was used to turbulence, of course. Years of flying in machines that dated back to the Eisenhower administration had made him used to bumpy flights. Still, the rattling of the plane seemed to emphasize his own anxiety.

The others should have been able to find the clues he'd left. Ellie Woodcomb, thankfully, had much more sense than her brother, and clearly saw that he was trying to convey a message to her. And assuming she relayed what he'd said to the rest of his team, Forrest at least should be able to figure it out. She'd at least get the relevance of his use of the word 'idiot.'

Assuming all of that, they should at least be able to realize that Casey and Carina were heading east. Unfortunately, he couldn't give any more specific details, because he didn't know any more himself. For that matter, he didn't think that Sandoval knew anything either. That was why they still needed him. They needed to continue with their charade until they, or at least Sandoval, or they, were in a position to find out what Torrance was up to.

Casey glanced over at the other end of the tiny plane. Carina and Sandoval were seated there, deep in conversation. Given the DEA Agent's proclivities for 'mixing business with pleasure,' Casey wondered about the nature of her past relationship with the mercenary. Whatever it was, Sandoval had accepted Carina's return quickly, so Casey wasn't about to complain. He just hoped he wouldn't have to deal with them making googly-eyes at each other. He'd had enough of that with his last partners. Still, he could imagine Grimes getting jealous of the sight of Carina and Sandoval seated together. That, at least, made him smile.

Turning his attention to the other occupant of the cabin, Casey studied Hector for a moment. He wondered how long the giant had worked for Sandoval. He'd gotten the sense that the larger man had been with Sandoval for a while, even though it wasn't exactly the type of profession to have a lot of job security. Seeing an opportunity to get some information, Casey moved over across the aisle.

"I remember the last time I worked for somebody secretive like this employer of ours," Casey said, not bothering to wait for Hector to acknowledge his presence. "Guy was 'connected,' if you know what I mean. He tried to go around the other families, do a bit of business on the side. I ended up going to Florida with him, as he tried to set up shop down there. It didn't work. They ended up finding out about him anyway, so the job didn't last long. Still, at least the money was good, and he paid for better transport than this."

Hector looked up briefly, but didn't say anything.

"But I suppose a job's a job, right? Been around enough to know that. Bet you have too."

The giant still remained silent.

"Heh. You're not one to talk, I get that. Discretion is an admirable trait. I'm discreet myself. Which is too bad, I guess. Cause I could tell you a story or two." Casey dug into his pocket, and produced two cigars. He held one out to the larger man.

Hector glanced down at the cigar, then back up to give Casey a look that he imagined he'd given Bartowski countless times. It was the look he'd give the geek when he wouldn't stop yammering about things no one gave a damn about.

Finally, Hector raised a meaty arm and pointed above the seat. To the 'no smoking' sign.

Casey grunted. "Right. Sorry to bother you." Hector must be one hell of a tough guy in an interrogation, he thought ruefully.

* * *

As he returned to his own seat, Casey noticed that Carina had gotten to her feet and was headed towards the airplane's meager bathroom. Seeing another opportunity, Casey walked over and nodded to Sandoval. "Your driver is quite the charmer." he said.

Sandoval smiled. "Hector likes to keep to himself. He doesn't trust easily." From the look on his face, Casey could see that Sandoval didn't either.

"Even Mary Anne couldn't get him to open up," Sandoval opened up.

"Heh. Yeah, she's a talker," Casey commented.

"Yes, it's nice to get the chance to swap war stories though. We had some excitement together when we were in South America."

"So this mission is just like old times for you, then."

Sandoval gave Casey a studied glance. "No, not like old times, I'm afraid."

"Ah." Casey nodded. "Then you two used to be…"

Rather than seeming offended, Sandoval burst into laughter. "Mary Anne and I? How little you must know your partner." Seeing Casey's surprise, he added, "Mary Anne is far too professional to engage in romantic relationships on a job."

Casey hid his surprise with difficulty. "Of course." Perhaps 'Mary Anne Hansen' was a bit more professional than the real version.

"No, it's just that I fear things are not like they used to be," Sandoval commented. "Toppling governments is fun. This corporate espionage, not so much."

"Couldn't agree more." Casey had seen more than his share of coups in his day. They were more fun. Still, it was interesting to know that Sandoval's knowledge didn't extend beyond Interglobal.

"But one has to follow the money," Sandoval said with a sigh.

The plane jerked as it began its descent. "And where exactly is it leading us?" Casey asked as he grabbed the seat to steady himself.

Sandoval glanced out the window. "Virginia."

* * *

"I see." No emotion could be seen on General Beckman's face, but her voice wavered slightly. The news that Casey was headed east, presumably with Sandoval, seemed to concern her. It seemed to suggest that whatever Torrance was planning wasn't going to happen in the west coast, and maybe, Morgan figured, the General felt safer when she was a few time zones away.

It had taken Morgan a few minutes to figure out how to contact the General from Casey's TV screen. Even though he figured he was above average when it came to electronic know-how, he'd always deferred to Chuck's greater expertise in such matters. It didn't help that Agent Forrest stood hovering over him, her fingers tapping impatiently on the screen. When he finally found the right combination of buttons, the General appeared, awake but only barely so.

"And this third man who kidnapped you, he is still at large?" the General asked after a recap of the night had been given.

"Yes, General," Forrest responded. "Two of the men were eliminated but the third managed to escape."

"I'll send a cleanup crew to deal with the first two. I assume I don't need to tell you the danger of having someone at large who can blow Colonel Casey and Agent Miller's covers."

"No, General."

"And as to Agent Bailey. I trust that he can continue with the mission." This last wasn't expressed as a question, Morgan noticed.

"General, he sustained several injuries as a result of his torture. And if I may speak frankly, he has shown himself to be very inexperienced. I don't think he is fully prepared for a mission such as this."

"General." Morgan and Forrest both turned around to see Agent Bailey standing behind them. Morgan was surprised at how quietly he was able to move. The young man was leaning against a chair, but otherwise seemed steady on his feet. His face didn't betray any sign of pain, or any offense at Agent Forrest's comment about him. "I am feeling better now, and I think I can carry on."

Beckman didn't speak for a few moments. Finally, she said, "Agent Bailey, you are sure you are able to continue with the mission?"

"Yes, General. And I feel that my experiences tonight, while terrible at the time, have helped me find the inner resolve needed to continue."

Forrest raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Very well, Agent Bailey," the General said. "At this point, I do not see any reason for any of you to stay on the west coast. Instead, you will be following Colonel Casey's tracker. Once you find him, do not make contact unless vital. We want to keep his cover for as long as possible.

"I will have a plane ready for you within an hour. Agent Bailey," she turned to the young agent, "use the flight as an opportunity to get some sleep. You've earned it." The screen went black.

* * *

Returning to his seat, Casey watched as the tiny plane touched down in a small, abandoned airfield. As they disembarked, Carina wordlessly moved next to Casey. "Find out anything more?" Casey asked, and the DEA agent shook her head.

They walked into a small building, finding little more than a worn conference table and a few folding chairs. The room was deserted. A few posters of Washington DC sites were spread along the walls. A small garbage can/ashtray stood under a poster of the DC ballpark.

Sandoval walked over to the ashtray, and unscrewed the top. From inside he pulled out a set of keys and handed them to Hector. "Our chariot awaits," he said to Casey and Carina, and walked back out of the building.

The only car in the lot was a black Buick. Hector unlocked the doors, and Sandoval motioned for the others to climb into the backseat. "Where are we headed?" Carina asked.

"Our mission will start shortly. But first, how about some breakfast?"

Casey's didn't particularly want any food, but Carina nodded. A few minutes later, they had driven away from the airfield, and turned into the drive-thru lane to a fast food restaurant.

Casey gave the drive-thru menu a once over, and felt even less hungry. Shoving a bunch of things together into a burrito for no reason wasn't his idea of a meal. "Just coffee," he grunted. Carina appeared to share his aversion to the culinary options, and nodded in agreement.

Neither Sandoval nor Hector acknowledged their requests. When the car rolled up to the speaker, Sandoval said, "One number seven with eggs over easy, One number five with apricot preserves, one number two with beet juice, and a cranberry muffin."

Casey raised an eyebrow, as he was pretty sure most of those options weren't even on the menu. His suspicions were confirmed when the car pulled up to the second window. Rather than being handed any food, Hector was given a blue folder.

"Kind of a convoluted way to get your mission orders," Carina said drily.

"Well, like I said, my employers value their secrecy. They pay well, so they can play these little games as much as they want." Sandoval opened the folder, and glanced over the piece of paper inside. "Hmm, we are headed to Reston, it seems." He turned back to Casey and Carina. "But first, I think we should have a real breakfast."

* * *

General Beckman had been as good as her word. Within minutes, two dark-clad agents arrived at Casey's door. One of them had managed to transfer the homing signal on the computer to a handheld phone, which he gave to Agent Forrest. The other helped Agent Bailey and the others to a black sedan waiting outside. A few minutes later, Morgan and the others were boarding a plane.

Morgan wasn't exactly experienced with air travel. Even including missions, he could count the number of flights he'd been on with his two hands. Even with that limited frame of reference, he was still surprised at the speed at which Beckman's plane moved. Morgan wasn't sure if there were speed limits for airplanes, but if there were, we was convinced they were breaking them.

After a while, the feeling in Morgan's stomach began to subside, or at least stopped competing with the drooping of his eyelids. He wasn't used to going so long without sleep. Looking around, he could see that Agent Bailey had followed Beckman's instructions, and had nodded off in his seat. Forrest, after giving the homing signal to the pilot, was also slumped over. Morgan decided that he should follow their example, and a few minutes later, dozed off.

Morgan wasn't sure what it was that caused him to wake up. Unlike his usual morning battle with the cobwebs in his brain, he woke up immediately. Judging by the sinking feeling in his stomach, they were beginning to descend.

He got up and walked up the aisle, prepared to tell Bailey that they were almost there. To his surprise, the seat was vacant. Figuring he was in the bathroom, Morgan headed back to his seat and grabbed his coat from underneath his seat.

As he was putting it on, Morgan stuck a hand into his coat pocket and was surprised to feel a folded-up piece of paper inside. He didn't remember leaving anything there, so he pulled out the note and unfolded it.

He immediately recognized Ellie's handwriting, even though it was clearly written in a hurry. As he read it, his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

_Morgan,_

_Injuries not consistent with story. Be careful._

_E_

Morgan ran to the back of the plane, opened the door to the bathroom, and saw that it was empty. Cursing to himself, he turned around and ran towards the still-sleeping Agent Forrest. Before he reached her seat, he noticed that the door to the cockpit was open. He changed his mind, and decided to see whether the pilot had seen anything.

It took all of Morgan's self-control to keep from losing the last remnants of the prior night's dinner. There was blood everywhere on the instrument panel, but not enough to cover up where someone had smashed it to the point of uselessness. Morgan couldn't remember exactly how to take a pulse, but it was obvious from one look at the pilot that he didn't need to.

It was also obvious from looking out the window that the plane was now rapidly descending.

* * *

_So there you go. The least shocking plot twist in the history of plot twists, judging by some of the reviews. _

_Speaking of which, how's the story going? Is the plot still working? Please review and let me know!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"Agent Forrest! Agent Forrest! Alex!" Morgan shook the sleeping agent, desperately trying to get her awake.

Finally, one eye opened. At first, Forrest gave Morgan a look that would curdle milk, but then she seemed to sense something, and sprang to her feet.

"What's going on?"

"The pilot. He's dead. And the plane is broken!"

Agent Forrest ran to the cockpit, and a moment later, Morgan heard an impressive string of curse words. Returning to the plane's cabin, she said, "Where's Bailey?"

"I don't know. I can't find him anywhere. But I found this." Morgan handed the note to the female agent.

Forrest glanced at the note, and her eyes narrowed. "This is from that doctor?"

Morgan nodded.

"Why the hell didn't she say something to me?"

"Uh, I don't think she trusts you." Before Agent Forrest could reply, he asked, "Can anything be done about the plane?"

Forrest shook her head, then headed over to the back of the plane. She opened a cabinet door, then let out another curse. "Parachutes are gone."

Morgan's head began to swim, and he sat down. This was it, then. He was going to die. He silently thought about all of the things he'd wanted to do in his life but hadn't done yet. Publish a comic book. Learn to water ski. Spend a weekend playing Call of Duty with George Lucas and James Cameron. At least, thanks to Carina, he'd been able to cross "Sleep with a really hot woman, twice" off his list.

He looked up to see Agent Forrest rummaging through the bag she'd brought with her. "What are you doing?" he asked her.

"I'm looking for my parachute. Ha." She pulled out an orange nylon pack.

"Oh thank God," Morgan sighed in relief. "You have extras."

Agent Forrest looked up. "I have _one_ extra."

Morgan went back to his mental cataloging.

"Relax, Grimes," Agent Forrest said in a voice that lacked anything remotely resembling enthusiasm. "You can ride with me."

"What?"

"Grab on to me, when I jump. But watch where you put your hands." Forrest had found a knife in her bag as well, which she waved at Morgan. "I'm more than willing to cut them off."

Copping a feel was the furthest thing from Morgan's mind, but he nodded. He followed Agent Forrest to the back of a plane. Next to the hatchway door was a large red button. Forrest pressed the button, opening up the hatch. A moment later, she jumped, taking Morgan along with her.

* * *

"Please have a seat. You will be shown to a quiet, private room shortly."

The blandly attractive secretary smiled at each of them, then beckoned them to the chairs off to the side of the lobby. As he sat down, Casey examined his surroundings. The lobby was small, and decorated with a combination of generic artwork and company motivational posters. The carpet was somewhat shabby, and the secretary's desk was fairly nondescript. All in all, Matrix International didn't seem to spend as much money on appearance as InterGlobal. Casey supposed that should be odd, given that the Ring was the "parent" company of both of them. Perhaps being located near DC meant that keeping a "fiscally responsible" image was more desirable.

Of course, they were there to evaluate the company's timekeeping practices, not its interior decorating costs. Or at least that's what the information packet Sandoval had received claimed. The packet had included the company address, and cover identities for the team. The secretary hadn't been surprised when Sandoval introduced himself as Arthur Beech; clearly they had been expected. Casey guessed that was as far as her knowledge went. Yet another case of the Ring keeping its various subsidiaries in the dark as much as possible.

This also explained why they had no idea why they were here. It had been clear to Casey during the breakfast briefing that Sandoval knew only as much as they did. They'd spent the time studying the packet and discussing what they would do when they got there. To appear more professional, they'd decided to buy more professional-looking clothing before leaving for Matrix International. Casey had hoped that the fake goatee and glasses he'd been wearing since meeting Sandoval would fool any of Torrance's Agents inside the office building. He wasn't sure how far his notoriety extended. He had helped bring down most of the Ring, after all.

Carina had changed her hairstyle to something more office-friendly, while Sandoval had parted his usually slicked-back hair. Hector didn't change a thing about his appearance, of course. He was unmistakable, no matter what he did.

A few minutes after vanishing, the secretary returned. "If you would please follow me." Casey and the others stood up and followed the woman down a hallway, and up to a thick wooden door. The secretary swiped a badge, and the door clicked open.

The room inside was largely empty. True to the secretary's promise, the room was quiet, with only the hum of the fluorescent lighting making any noise. There was a large table in the middle of the room, with a laptop set up atop it. "We have established a connection to our timecard system, which should allow you to complete your audit. If you have any questions, please let me know." The woman vanished back through the door.

Once she was gone, Carina asked, "You think she knows why we're here?"

Sandoval shrugged. "Maybe. But we should keep an eye out for anyone else. There are people here that might not know who we are, or why we're here."

"You mean like us?" Carina muttered.

Sandoval chuckled, and then nodded to Hector. The giant moved toward the door, and leaned his head downward to listen for any approaching interruptions.

"Now," Sandoval said, clicking on the laptop. "How about we find out why we were sent here?"

* * *

Morgan's screams drowned out the sound of the plane hatch sliding closed behind them. He held onto Forrest's waist so tightly, he worried that he would crush her. A dead Agent Forrest wouldn't be able to pull the ripcord, which wouldn't make Morgan's current circumstances any better.

He didn't dare move to turn his head around, so he was only able to hear the explosion when the plane hit the ground. "Oh God," he muttered to himself.

It felt like they were dropping for hours. He couldn't understand why Agent Forrest hadn't pulled the cord yet. Several times he asked her why she hadn't, until finally she said, "Would you shut up already!"

Morgan struggled desperately to find something to occupy his mind instead of the rapidly approaching ground. When only one thing popped into his head, he started muttering to himself.

"_Burbank Bats we will fight, fight, fight_

_our glorious home we'll defend,_

_On silent wings we will take flight,_

_And stand alone in the end_."

"What the hell are you yammering about?"

"It's my high school fight song. It's the only thing that I could think of. I need something to focus on other than my imminent death."

"Well, there's a good chance it's going to be more imminent than you think. But if it will get you to shut up…" Forrest pulled the cord.

* * *

"Ok," Sandoval said, staring at the computer screen, "did they give us a password?"

Casey looked over Carina's shoulder to examine the packet. After the instructions for finding Matrix International, little in the way of details had been provided. The Ring seemed to be very cautious when it came to paper trails. Still, he noticed there was a watermark on the page. Koufax Printing. He gave the name to Sandoval.

Sandoval typed in the name. "We're in."

Casey grunted, thinking back to earlier in the day. The car keys had been hidden in a trashcan underneath a picture of a ballpark. He also remembered that Torrance had talked about baseball to one of the guards prior to his escape. He shook his head. He didn't like the idea of a bunch of traitors using the national pastime as a way of conveying their secret messages.

"What did you find?" Carina asked.

"Well, these do seem to be timekeeping records, alright. Not sure what we're supposed to do with them."

"Do they show the employee names?" Casey wondered if there was anything on Torrance in there.

"No, just IDs. Eight-digit numbers."

Casey frowned. As much as he hated to admit it, he wished Bartowski was there. He'd probably flash over all of this until smoke was coming out of his ears. Plus, he'd probably enjoy figuring out these stupid riddles.

"Hold on," Carina said, pointing to the written instructions in the packet. "Look what it says here at the end?"

"It doesn't say a damn thing," Casey growled. "It tells us to come here, and further instructions would be given. We haven't gotten those instructions, in case you haven't noticed."

"Well, it says, 'You will be met at Matrix International, and will be given further instructions, and will proceed to the finale.' What's the finale?"

"Presumably, the end of our job," Sandoval replied. "It's a shade dramatic, but it doesn't tell us anything."

"Finale," Carina muttered to herself. "F-i-n-a-l-e. Is there an employee ID 69141125?"

"Actually, yes." Sandoval moved the mouse over and clicked on the ID. The screen shifted to a weekly calendar. Under each day, there was a number.

"Quite an industrious fellow," Sandoval remarked. "It says he worked 32 hours last Wednesday." He looked back at Casey and Carina. "This must mean something. How did you guess this ID, Mary Anne?"

Carina shrugged. "I just changed each letter in 'finale' into its number in the alphabet. Pretty easy, actually." Seeing Casey's surprised expression, she said, "What? I'm not allowed to be smart?"

"Well, it looks like we've got yet another code," Sandoval said. "A number for each day of the week. 14 for Monday, 3 for Tuesday, 32 for Wednesday, 7 for Thursday and 15 for Friday. What is it?"

"Doesn't look like coordinates," Casey said. "And there aren't 32 letters in the alphabet."

"Locker combination."

Everyone turned in surprise to look at Hector. They were the first words Casey had heard the giant speak since he'd met him.

When he didn't say anything further, Carina said, "He's right. Whatever we were sent for, it must be in a locker somewhere around here."

* * *

Morgan watched the fire engines and ambulances speed by on the distant highway. As he stood up to wave to them, he felt a firm hand pull him back down again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Trying to get us rescued."

"Grimes," Agent Forrest said, the words spoken in a clipped manner. "In case you haven't forgotten, we were just on a plane that crashed, thanks to somebody we thought was one of our own. Are you really sure you want to believe that there isn't anybody else out here working with him?"

Morgan thought about this for a moment. "Geez. I'm an idiot."

Agent Forrest didn't respond to this pronouncement. Instead, she said, "C'mon, we need to get to some shelter."

The parachute had landed in an empty field. After Morgan had struggled to retrieve and fold up the used chute, he had stared blankly at the surrounding countryside. Now, as he followed Agent Forrest, he could see a couple of buildings in the distance. As they neared, they appeared to be an old farmhouse and barn. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Indiana." Forrest said with certainty.

"How can you tell?"

"I grew up in a place like this."

The sound of the sirens had largely disappeared by the time they reached the barn. Forrest walked along the perimeter of the building, then stopped at a door in the ground. "There's a root cellar down there. Climb in there and stay out of sight, while I have a look around." She retrieved a flashlight from her pack, and handed it to him.

It took all of Morgan's might to pull the rusty door opened. He unenthusiastically climbed into the cellar, trying to ignore the scent of mildew coming from underneath. He shut the door behind him, leaving the flashlight as his only source of light. He decided not to shine the light around the cellar, figuring he didn't need to see what was probably scurrying around by his feet. Instead, he spent his time alone with his thoughts.

He was not a real agent. He had done little to contribute to the team, other than being in the way. He'd hung out with Agent Bailey, and never suspected that he was a traitor. He shuddered, as the image of the dead pilot returned to his mind. If he had suspected Bailey, heck, if he had at least reached into his pocket earlier, that man would still be alive. He was useless.

After wallowing in his thoughts for what seemed like ages, Morgan heard sounds coming from the ground above. He shone his flashlight around the cellar, looking for some sort of weapon. He grabbed a stick and stood just to the side of the door. As he prepared to swing the stick at the invader, he heard, "Grimes, it's me."

The door opened, and Morgan saw Agent Forrest's hand beckoning him outside.

"There wasn't anybody looking for us?" Morgan asked once he was above ground.

"One person. He's not looking for us anymore."

Morgan gulped at this. "So we're safe?"

"Not for long. We'll need to find a way out of here."

* * *

"You're not, you know."

Morgan had been following Forrest around the old abandoned farmhouse. Other than stopping at a well to drink some disturbingly brown water, they hadn't found anything of value. Morgan hadn't been much help with the search, as he had spent most of the time looking over his shoulder.

Agent Forrest's words caused him to stop and turn back around. She hadn't said anything throughout their search until then. "Not what?"

"An idiot."

Morgan shook his head. "Haven't you been paying attention? I don't know what I'm doing out here. In case you haven't figured it out, I'm not exactly an experienced agent. And I didn't get a whole lot of training. Hell, one year ago, I thought the only evil group out for world domination was the Black Eyed Peas."

"Grimes…"

"And now, I'm supposed to be able to bring down this Torrance guy? I'm not ready for this. Look how easily Bailey fooled me."

Grimes, shut up!"

Morgan fell silent.

"Bailey fooled us all. I should have seen that something wasn't right. Nobody that's been through training should be that incompetent."

"Except me," Morgan said glumly.

"You're doing better than you think. Your approach is somewhat…unorthodox, but I think that's probably what we need."

Agent Forrest sat down. "Everything that's gone wrong with this mission. Almost blowing it at InterGlobal, getting taken at the karaoke club, and what happened with Bailey, that's all my fault. I'm supposed to be able to read people, but I can't."

Morgan shook his head. "What about back at the warehouse? You knew everything those guys were going to do. You totally read _them_."

Forrest smiled humorlessly. "They were trained to think a certain way, so I could predict what they would do. But regular people? Half the time, they do things that make no sense. Sometimes more than half the time," she added, looking at Morgan. She shook her head. "Look how much trouble I had with that guard at InterGlobal."

Morgan listened to this, not sure what to say. At another time, Agent Forrest's uncharacteristic display of vulnerability might have been comforting. Today, it just made him feel even more nervous.

Forrest looked back at him, then her eyes narrowed. "That doesn't mean you aren't a moron, though. Now come on, and don't do anything stupid."

Strangely, Morgan felt better after that.

* * *

"So, Mr. Rutherford, how did you get into this business?"

Casey immediately recognized his cover name, and didn't show any surprise at Sandoval's question. After finding the locker combination, the four team members had returned to the front desk to find out where the employee bathrooms were located. Casey and Sandoval were now inside the men's bathroom, looking for the correct locker.

"I was a cop, back in the Midwest." The lie came easy to Casey, as he had already prepared an appropriate cover story. "A few years back, I was…asked to leave, so I got into business for myself."

"Asked to leave." Sandoval looked over from the other side of the room. "What did you do?"

Casey shrugged. "I took some money."

"I see. And how did your partner feel about this?"

Casey looked over to see Sandoval studying him speculatively. "My partner?"

"Yes. Did your extracurricular activities cause your partner to lose his job too?"

Casey snorted. "Are you asking whether you can trust me?"

"I don't want to work with somebody who would betray their partners. And I don't think Mary Anne should either."

Casey turned back to the lockers, and continued searching for the right number. As he did this, he said, "I was working alone. My partner quit. And I don't betray anyone I work with."

Casey looked back up to see Sandoval studying him. Finally, he seemed satisfied and motioned for Casey to go over to him. "I found Locker 143 right here. Now what was the combination again?"

Casey recited from memory. "32-7-15." He watched Sandoval kneel down and turn the wheel. A moment later, the locker opened with a click. Sandoval reached in and pulled out another set of keys.

"I guess we have a new car." Casey followed Sandoval back out of the bathroom. Hector, standing outside, nodded to them, and knocked on the women's bathroom door. A moment later, Carina walked out.

As they headed back to the lobby, Carina nodded slightly to Casey. He immediately recognized her message; she'd managed to send a text message to Beckman while she'd been alone in the bathroom. So at least she'd know where they were, and possibly contact the rest of the team if they were free.

They exited the building and returned to the parking garage. The parking attendant they'd turned in the car keys to when they arrived was nowhere to be seen. His replacement watched them approach, and wordlessly took the keys that Hector handed him.

"I hope this is the end of all of this running around," Carina said. "Martin, no offense, but your boss is kind of a pain in the ass."

"None taken," Sandoval admitted. "I may have to renegotiate our price after this."

Casey guessed that would be a bad idea, but didn't say anything. Torrance liked tying up loose ends too much to be flexible on payment.

A minute later, the attendant pulled up in another black sedan. Though it was a different car from the last one, it was similarly nondescript.

Hector walked over to the driver's seat as the attendant silently departed. Sandoval watched as the giant entered the car. Finally, he said, "Hector, pop the trunk, will you?"

Once the telltale thunk was heard, Casey walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. There was a white oblong box inside, tied together with a red bow. He picked up the box and unwrapped it. He sighed once he saw the two items that were inside.

"What is it?" Sandoval asked.

Casey looked up. "A rifle. And a picture."

* * *

_Thanks everyone who has been reading along with this story, and especially to those who have reviewed. Reviews are what encourage me to keep going. Well, that and Nutter Butters. But mostly the reviews._


	14. Chapter 14

_An additional disclaimer to add to the usual "I don't own 'Chuck'" mantra (Still true by the way; I checked my bank statement this morning). Any references to politicians are not meant to resemble the current administration, the last administration, or any administration in the past (not even Rutherford B. Hayes). This is not intended as political satire or partisan in any way; it's just a story that's (hopefully) entertaining. Just assume the Chuck-verse president is an independent who financed his own campaign. If any political opinions do appear, they're John Casey's, not mine._

_Also, I don't own 'Chuck.'_

**Chapter 14**

"We have to put a stop to this."

Carina didn't immediately respond to Casey's statement. Instead, she watched the Washington, DC traffic dart back and forth. They had just reached the city and left the car in a tow-away zone, figuring it wasn't theirs to lose anyway. Sandoval and Hector had gone off to find a newspaper, trying to figure where they could find their current target.

"We have to bring in Sandoval. We can't let this charade go on any longer."

This time, Carina answered. "No."

"What?"

"We can't give up now. There's still more we need to figure out. I'll send another message to Beckman about what's going on. But we should let this all play out."

"Agent Miller, we are talking about a man's life here."

"One man. Stopping Torrance could save a whole lot more. That's worth more, even if that one man is the Secretary of State."

Casey snorted. "After all of this, Torrance's plan turned out to be a lousy assassination attempt. And for the Secretary of State? It's almost disappointing."

"There has more to it," Carina replied. "That's why I think we should keep going."

"And what if Sandoval decides that you should pull the trigger?"

"Then I pull the trigger."

Casey shook his head. "Of course we won't ask you. You're his golden girl, afer all. He'll have me do it instead." He gave Carina a steady gaze. "If only he knew the real you, and not 'Mary Anne Hansen.' He might feel differently if he knew how cold and heartless you are."

Carina put her hands on her hips, a defiant look on her face. "I spent 18 months in the jungle with Martin Sandoval. I think he knows me a bit better than you do. I've been on, what, three missions with you? And most of that time you spent trying to get in my pants."

"Well, I suppose I was wasting my time with that. I guess I should have grown a ridiculous beard, tripped over myself all the time, and gabbed over and over about something called 'The Dharma Initiative.' Whatever the hell that is."

"You know, Casey, I don't think you know much about Morgan either. You don't seem to know much about anybody on your team." Carina made a face. "Other than Forrest, anyway, since she's pretty much you with a vagina." She put her hands on her hips. "It hardly makes you much of a team leader."

"Look," Casey growled between clenched teeth, "you may not like how I go about doing things, but I _am_ team leader. So why don't you contact Beckman and let her know what's going on. You let me worry about everything else."

As Carina headed around the corner, Casey thought about what she had said. It was ridiculous. What, as if sitting around on the couch playing video games with Grimes would make him a better leader? And it had been her that had come on to him before. It wasn't like he was chasing after her. He was too professional for that. If he had any regrets about that, it was because he didn't like to lose.

And of course he knew that Torrance needed to be brought down. Nobody had devoted their life more to the greater good than he did. He had a daughter he could barely speak to thanks to that. And if some little DEA Agent thought she could tell him about sacrifice, she had another thing coming. But taking a human life on the chance that it might keep their cover intact, that was a calculated risk that didn't seem worth it to him. Even if that one life was of a politician.

Casey saw Carina returning, and he decided to tell her exactly what he thought of her little speech. However, as she approached, he saw that were face was uncharacteristically pale. "What?" he asked.

"I talked with Beckman. She said that Morgan and the others did manage to get away from the people that took them at the karaoke bar."

Casey felt his shoulders relax as she told him this. But her face was still wan. "And?"

"They got your signal, and they were following it. But she said there was a plane crash. No sign of any survivors."

* * *

Morgan rarely got the opportunity to look down at someone. His vertically-challenged nature meant that he usually found himself looking directly at people's necks, chins, and in the case of one annoyingly awesome individual, pecs. So, he couldn't help but relish his current opportunity, and stretched slightly to gain an even bigger height advantage.

This had the desired effect on his victim, who seemed to slink back in his ill-fitting green shirt. This caused the badge on the shirt to shift slightly, so one could barely read the words "Assistant Manager" on it.

"But nobody told me about a surprise inspection," he wheezed.

"Well, that's kind of the point," Morgan pointed out. "Buy More corporate asked me to come to the Fort Wayne Buy More and make sure that all inventory is being handled properly. And I take my duties very seriously. Now…"

"Marvin."

"Ok, Marvin. The first thing I want to do is a test to see how easily excess inventory can be found. I would like you to find, and retrieve the following items." Morgan made a show of looking up at the ceiling, as if in deep thought. "How about, a Rantek C11 cell phone, a DaGama 311 GPS device, QST 8-inch LCD TV."

Marvin looked uncertain for a moment, and then scurried away. As he was heading to the back of the store, he paused next to the Nerd Herd Station. "Leonard, Jeremy, couldn't you at least look like you're working?"

The two men standing at the station, currently giggling while huddled over a laptop, barely looked up.

Morgan shuddered. Buy Mores all of over the world were exactly the same.

A few minutes later, Marvin returned, a bundle of items in his hands. Morgan pressed an invisible button on his watch. "Two minutes and…seventeen seconds. Not bad. I've seen better, of course, but I don't think Corporate will be too disappointed." He took the boxes from Marvin. "Now, I'm going to need to take these outside and make sure they have been properly inventoried."

Morgan walked towards the exit of the store. As he approached the door, the alarm went off. "Marvin, you'll take care of that for me, right?" The Assistant Manager nodded, and ran back to the main office.

* * *

"See, I told you I could get you what we need." Morgan pushed the boxes through the passenger side window of the pickup truck. He carefully opened the side door, still not convinced that touching their current choice of transportation wouldn't require a tetanus shot. But it was what Forrest had been able to find, and it wasn't like anyone would miss it.

Forrest flipped through the various boxes, before taking the cell phone. "There's a SIM card in here?" she asked.

"Yeah, the Rantek C11's are always tough sales, so the employees usually use them to make unauthorized, free phone calls. I figured they'd have one hidden around, and they'd go find that one first."

"Good. I'm not sure how many of Bailey's Ring buddies are around, and I don't want them tracking us. I'll call Beckman once we're on the road."

She took the GPS and unhooked the back. "A couple of tweaks, and this should be able to monitor any satellite transmission in the area."

Morgan watched her fiddling with the device. "Huh. You could be an honorary Nerd Herder. I mean that in a good way," he quickly added when she threw an annoyed glance his way.

"Whatever. Forrest looked out the window. "We should leave." Morgan followed her glance, and saw Marvin and a few burlier than average green shirters headed their way. She started the engine, and pulled away.

"Well, I guess we're back in business," Morgan said. "Once we talk to Beckman, hopefully we should be able to find Casey and Carina."

"Hmm. As long as she can find us another plane. I don't really want to drive this thing any more than I have to." Forrest looked back at the last box on Morgan's lap. "What's the TV for?"

"Just a little something I picked up for myself. I've got to find something to occupy my time on a long road trip, right?"

Agent Forrest rolled her eyes. "So they really gave you all that stuff?"

"Well, those are my people back there. And I know my people." Looking up from the TV, he could see the curiosity in Agent Forrest's face. "It's like you and terrorists. I knew exactly what they were going to do. You know," he added thoughtfully, "maybe you should try your hand at retail. Nothing will teach you to understand people better."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Forrest replied laconically.

"Hey, don't knock it. Look what it's done for Colonel Casey. It's totally humanized him."

* * *

"What kind of an idiot can't make a cup of coffee?"

The barista backed away from the counter, his eyes wild with fear. Casey grabbed the cup, nearly sloshing some of the offending beverage onto the next customer. Finally, he found a seat with the others in the corner of the store.

Carina was sitting there, sipping on her coffee. She eyed Casey warily, but didn't say anything. Neither Sandoval nor Hector was drinking anything.

"Are you sure you need that coffee, friend?" Sandoval asked, smiling humorlessly. "You seem jumpy enough as it is."

"I'm fine," Casey growled. "Don't want to fall asleep during the job." The job was a few hours away, and only part of the reason for Casey's mood. Sandoval had learned that the Secretary of State was going to be making a public appearance at a political rally on the Mall in the evening. There would be security there, of course. But the President wouldn't be there, so the Secret Service presence wouldn't be giving the event as much focus as they would otherwise.

The rifle they had been given was capable of hitting a target from at least a mile away. This gave them some leeway in choosing their perch. They would need to get away quickly once the shot had been made, and there would likely be enough bedlam at the Mall afterwards. So, there was a decent chance for success.

That was, of course, assuming they actually wanted to succeed. Casey, of course, did not.

This, along with what had happened to Grimes, Forrest, and Bailey, was what was really bothering him. While he didn't agree with everything Carina was said, he knew he had to accept that what had happened to Grimes and the others was his responsibility. They had given their lives for the country, but did they need to? As annoying as Grimes had been, he had died a hero, and Casey owed him his respect.

Things should have been planned better at the karaoke bar. If they hadn't been taken there, the team never would have been separated. He seriously doubted the plane crash was an accident, which meant that Torrance was somehow behind it. So their current failure in the mission was the reason they had been killed.

As much as he hated to admit it, though, Carina did have a point about the need to carry on with the cover. It made little sense that Torrance's endgame was a mere assassination, so the charade would have to be continued until they could learn more. And there was only one way they could do that without causing any lasting damage.

Casey looked up from his coffee. "Let me take the shot," he said.

Sandoval shook his head. "You are too keyed up right now, my friend. It is clear that you aren't fit to do it." He turned to Carina. "Mary Anne. How would you feel about doing the honors?"

Casey wanted to object, but kept silent. He knew that he could make the perfect shot, one that would hit the Secretary of State without seriously injuring him. He had doubts about Carina's marksmanship skills. Plus, he knew that the news about Grimes had her troubled as well. She might be right that he didn't know her that well, but he could see the slight tremors in her hands. Still, he and Carina were supposed to be long-time partners, and while some bickering could be expected, his doubting her abilities would seem odd. And they couldn't afford to give any indication that Vince Rutherford and Mary Anne Hansen weren't who they claimed to be.

Carina seemed to understand the situation as well. Casey could read the doubt on her face for a brief moment, before she quickly covered it and nodded. "I'd be delighted," she said to Sandoval.

* * *

In addition to the usual crowd of tourists, the Mall was filled with a handful of protesters. Some seemed to be protesting the soon-to-be-arriving Secretary of State, while others were protesting the first set of protesters. It all seemed silly to Casey. He wondered if any of them took the time to consider those that had sacrificed so much to give them the chance to wave around those signs.

Still, it added an element of chaos to the surroundings, which was exactly what they needed. Casey, Carina, and Sandoval had positioned themselves atop a mile away from the Mall. In a few minutes, the Secretary of State was scheduled to give a brief speech about the benefits of some upcoming legislation Casey wasn't familiar with. Typical of a politician, he thought, seeing that the speech was being made in front of the Washington Monument. It was all about photo-ops in DC. This was why we was glad he spent most of his time in the field. Even if that field happened to be in Burbank.

Casey was crouched a few feet away from Carina and Sandoval. Carina was loading the rifle, while Sandoval was watching the scene at the Mall with a set of high-powered binoculars. Hector was at the door to the stairwell, keeping an ear out for trouble.

"Do you have a bead on the podium?" Sandoval asked Carina.

"Of course. I've done this before, Martin," Carina gave him a quick smile.

"Good. I see the secret service cars approaching. The speech should be beginning momentarily." He turned to Casey. "Any sign of trouble down there?"

Casey glanced down. There was a stray agent or two at the side of the street, but no other signs of secret service presence. "No," he responded.

"Then we're almost ready."

Casey watched Carina look through the rifle scope. She was unusually quiet, and he once again felt concern that she wasn't up to the task. "Mary Anne," he said, "you ok doing this?"

Carina looked back, and Casey could see that she was nervous. She nodded, but didn't speak.

"I know you can do this," he added. "Make the perfect shot."

She nodded again, apparently understanding his meaning.

"He's approaching the dais now," Sandoval said. He put down the binoculars and glanced to his side, studying Carina. "Mary Anne, are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Ok." He picked up the binoculars once again. Casey inched forward, watching Carina. "Almost there."

Carina picked up the rifle.

"He's stepping to the podium now."

Carina raised her eye to the scope.

"He's beginning the speech now. Fire."

Carina didn't move.

"Mary Anne?"

Casey moved forward. Carina was frozen, with the self-doubt clearly getting to her head.

"Mary Anne?" Sandoval spoke the name gently. "Give me the gun."

Before Casey could reach her, Carina handed the rifle to Sandoval. He crouched down, and prepared to fire.

Casey knew that the time for the cover had ended. He needed to take out Sandoval before he could shoot the Secretary of State. But before he could remove his own firearm, a shot rang out, echoing from the buildings in the area.


	15. Chapter 15

_Sorry this chapter took a little longer to finish. There should be some answers in this one. _

_I don't own "Chuck." In an ironic twist, the show actually owns me, and make do odd jobs around the set. Mostly cleaning up after Jeff and Lester._

**Chapter 15**

"Agent Forrest. Agent Grimes."

Morgan couldn't help but notice the slight ironic lilt that General Beckman had placed on the word 'Agent' before his name. Still, he didn't dwell on it. He was just glad to be out of Indiana.

The General had been waiting for them as soon as they stepped off the plane. It had been a quick flight. The plane had been readied for them quickly as soon as they'd made contact outside of Fort Wayne, and the ride to the Air Force Base outside of DC had taken barely more than an hour. Morgan felt a little unsteady on his feet, and came dangerously close to falling on top of the General when he disembarked. She looked annoyed, but didn't speak, as she led them to a limousine.

"Agents," the General addressed Morgan and Forrest as soon as they'd entered the car. "Time is of the essence."

"You've spoken to Colonel Casey?" Forrest asked.

"Yes. He and Agent Miller are still undercover. They've discovered part of Torrance's plan. They are going to try to assassinate the Secretary of State."

"Seriously?" Morgan said. "I mean, why would they try to assassinate somebody? We're the good guys. We are the good guys, right?" he added uncertainly.

"I trust Colonel Casey to make sure that the attempt will not be successful. However, they need to keep their cover intact to see if they can learn any more about Torrance's schemes. We want to be sure that they don't go beyond the assassination." She looked down for a moment. "The Secretary of State is a personal friend. I'm not happy about this either."

"Have there been any sightings of Torrance in DC?" Agent Forrest asked.

The General shook her head. "We still have not seen him since he escaped. But we can be sure that if DC is the key to his plan, he will surface here at some point."

Forrest nodded. "So where are you taking us?" Forrest asked.

"You're going to the Mall, where the Secretary of State is about to speak. I need you as a second line of defense to ensure nothing goes wrong. But you are not to make contact with Colonel Casey or Agent Miller."

Great, more gunfire and danger, Morgan thought to himself. He decided not to dwell on this and tried to enjoy his first limo ride. It didn't work. The sights of Washington DC were new to him, having never been there before, but his thoughts remained on the mission as they sped by. Finally, the silence was interrupted by the chirp of a cell phone.

"Yes?" Beckman said when she'd picked up her phone. Her face immediately fell. Knocking on the front window, she yelled, "We need to get to the Mall at once!"

* * *

"We need to go!" Casey barked.

It took Carina only a moment to react to his words, and she ducked down and scurried towards the stairwell door. Sandoval, however, didn't move.

Looking behind him, Casey could see the reason why. There was a dark red splotch on the mercenary's shirt, getting larger by the second. As he saw this, he realized the echo he'd heard hadn't been an echo at all. They were being fired at. "Get down!"

As he dodged another volley of bullets, he saw Carina turn around and help Sandoval to his feet. "C'mon!" she yelled, "we have to get out of here!"

Hector was waiting at the door, concern for Sandoval marked on his large face. He pulled the door open, and they headed into the stairwell.

"How could they have gotten here so quickly?" Carina muttered, still supporting the struggling Sandoval.

"I think they knew we were going to be here," Casey replied. "And I don't think that's the Secret Service firing at us." He turned around.

They made it down a couple of flights before a soft "Wait" stopped Casey in his tracks. Sandoval was on the ground, shaking his head.

"I can go no farther," Sandoval said quietly.

"But you have to!" Carina protested. "Whoever's shooting at us will be here soon."

Sandoval shook his head. "It won't matter. I won't get very far anyway. Mary Anne, there is something I must tell you."

Carina looked like she was going to argue further, but after looking Sandoval in the eye, she kneeled down. Casey followed suit.

"I aimed for the leg. No kill shot." Sandoval coughed slightly before continuing. "Mary Anne, I know… I know that you are not who you say you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Casey said, though Carina remained silent.

"No, it's ok," Sandoval responded. "There was a note in the packet we were given, but I threw it away."

Casey was surprised to see a tear developing in Carina's eye. "Why? If the men who hired you found out…"

"They might try to hurt me?" Sandoval chuckled, before coughing again. "I don't know," he admitted. "I guess, as you said before, things have become boring in this line of work. Sneaking around, helping companies steal secrets from each other. It's not for me. I guess I was curious if being on the other side would be more fun."

"Was it?" Carina asked quietly.

"Yes. Until now."

Carina smiled, then turned away to hide the tears.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Carina asked.

Sandoval, his breaths ragged, said, "I knew people were after you. I thought he might be one of them." It took a moment for Casey to realize that the mercenary meant him. "I didn't know…until today, his own reluctance about the job, that he wasn't part of this."

Casey inclined his head, but didn't speak.

"You were always…my favorite, Mary Anne." He struggled to turn his head upward. "Hector. Go with them. Help them. For me."

The giant, also clearly emotional, merely nodded.

"Now…go. Get away from whoever is behind this. They will be here soon, and I don't think…that they are going to be paying what they owe me."

As Casey stood up, Casey leaned down and whispered something in Sandoval's ear. He smiled briefly, before slumping down. A moment later, the rising and falling of his chest slowed and finally stopped.

* * *

Casey put a hand on Carina's shoulder. "We have to leave now. They'll be coming." He said the words gently, but she seemed to get the message.

They didn't meet anyone in the last few flights of the stairwell. Once they neared the exit, Casey removed the black jacket and pants he'd been wearing. This, at least, they'd been prepared for. In order to blend in when they needed to escape, they'd bought typical tourist clothing. While Casey felt ridiculous in the 'You Don't Know Me, Federal Witness Protection' t-shirt, shorts, and baseball cap, it was worth it to stay under the radar.

Looking behind him, Casey could see that Carina and Hector also had changed, Carina into a Georgetown t-shirt and Hector into a two-sizes-too-small Redskins tee. Casey hadn't been sure that the giant would stay with them, but he made no sign of going his own way. Carina was still moving slowly, and Casey had to nudge her to get her to speed up her pace.

As he walked along beside her, Casey asked, "What did you say to him?" Carina didn't answer.

The street was a crowd of bodies, each shoving their way towards whatever sanctuary they seemed to have. Casey and the others weaved their way through the horde of people, making slow progress towards the area of the shooting.

While dodging the crowd, it occurred to Casey that he was no longer bound by his cover, and it was now safe to check for a message from Beckman. He grabbed his phone, and found that he did have a message. But when he played it, he discovered that the message wasn't from Beckman, but was instead left by Bartowski.

"_Hey Casey, it's Chuck. I've had a chance to look a little more closely at those plans you left me, and, uh, as it turns out, I may have misread them slightly."_

"Figures," Casey muttered to himself.

"_So before, I said it seemed like the plans were for some sort of reverse Intersect, that you could read somebody else's knowledge and save it somewhere else. I was kind of right, but I think it goes deeper than just what that person knows. I think it might actually read that person's whole consciousness._"

"Bartowski, you idiot," Casey growled, "that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"_I'm sure you're probably growling and calling me an idiot right now, but I've double and triple-checked it, and it has to be right. And there's more, too. There's another part of this thing, something that allows that consciousness to be downloaded into another person, probably without their knowledge. My guess, it's probably something that looks like a gun. That's your department, so I'll let you figure that one out_."

Casey merely grunted at that.

"_So, uh, good luck, Casey, with whatever your mission is. It sounds pretty crazy with the whole sci-fi brain stealing thing. But I'm sure you're up to it. So…be careful and everything. I can only imagine that if it got into the wrong hands, it would be a total disaster. Oh, Sarah says hi."_ The message ended.

* * *

Casey cursed to himself as his second attempt to reach General Beckman led nowhere. She was probably knee-deep in phone calls right now, anyway. Casey wasn't sure she wanted to hear Bartowski's ridiculous theory, anyway.

And it was ridiculous. Even if he'd come to trust the geek's intuition on all things with wires, diodes, and buttons, this went beyond the norm. It was utter insanity.

And yet, Casey supposed that he couldn't rule out the possibility that something like what Bartowski had described could be developed at this point. Casey missed the good-old days, when serving one's country involved years of honest training and hard-work, followed by good-old American beating the crap out of one's enemies. Sure, he loved the newest in firearms and weapon technology as much as the next guy. But sticking computers in people's brains, and now sticking on person's brain in someone else's skull? It was sick. Not to mention cheating.

As he weaved his way through the crowd, Casey decided that he needed to focus on the matter at hand, which was what had just happened there in DC. He needed to find out who had shot Sandoval. It seemed impossible that the Secret Service had been in position to take him out so quickly, so it must have been Torrance and his men. Which meant they were the fall guys, the sacrificial lambs. And that meant that they were still in danger.

A glance over to the side of the street revealed a chance to learn more about what was going on. There was a TV camera set up, with an overdressed Woodcomb clone wielding a microphone. The man looked excited, and Casey guessed that he knew something. He looked back, and nodded to Hector. "Come with me." The giant mutely followed.

As the TV reporter was busy preening, Casey approached him. "Do you know what's going on?" he asked.

The reporter gave Casey a bored glance. "You'll have to wait till 11 like everyone else," he responded disdainfully.

Impatient, Casey motioned to Hector. "How about you tell us now," he growled as the larger man leaned in to the wannabe journalist.

The reporter looked frightened for a moment, then straightened. "Please, you're not going to do anything when there's a camera right here. You two look stupid, but not _that_ stupid."

At the moment, Casey didn't feel particularly daunted by the camera. As he considered various things to do with the moron's microphone, though, he heard a soft "Ahem" from behind. He turned around to see Carina, her hands on her hips. She still appeared sad, but there was a look of determination in her eyes.

"Why don't you let me deal with this. Just give me five minutes."

Casey shrugged, and walked back to the sidewalk. Hector reluctantly followed suit.

Four minutes later, Carina returned. "You won't believe this."

* * *

"Yes, we will share our resources with the Secret Service. And I assure you, we will find out everything shortly." General Beckman hung up the phone, her face stern.

Morgan looked at her curiously, but decided that it would be in his best interest to keep his mouth shut. Agent Forrest seemed to agree, and the limousine was quiet for about a minute. Then, the General's phone chirped again, and Beckman answered.

"Yes? He is. And the shooter? I see." Beckman's face was inscrutable.

This time, Morgan decided to risk it. "So, the Secretary of State?"

"Alive. Shot in the leg. He's an old veteran, so it's not his first bullet wound. He'll be fine." She gave the two Agents a long look. "It seems that the shooter has been taken out."

"It wasn't…" Forrest began.

"A man in his mid-forties, hair slicked back, mustache."

"That sounds like Sandoval," Morgan remembered.

The General nodded.

* * *

"So the Secretary of State's alive," Casey repeated Carina's words. "Sandoval was a good shot after all."

"He always was," Carina said sadly. "But there's more. The man who shot Martin was an off-duty CIA agent who happened to be in the right place at the right time. He's being taken to the White House now, to be given a hero's welcome."

Casey noticed a note of acid in Carina's voice. It seemed like it went beyond the death of her friend.

* * *

"Then we know who shot him?" Agent Forrest asked the General.

"A new CIA recruit," Beckman said, with a raised eyebrow. "One who nobody seems to know was just killed in a plane crash."

* * *

"So what aren't you telling us?" Casey asked.

"As it turns out, the man who took out Martin, the man who seemingly saved the life of the Secretary of State, is a young Agent named Andrew Bailey."

* * *

_So exactly how many sharks did this chapter jump? Please review and let me know._


	16. Chapter 16

_Sorry this took so long to finish. I'm also working on a short Halloween story, which will be up in a few days._

_I do not own "Chuck"_

_I do not own it – no such luck_

_I do not own it, not so far_

_I do not own it in a car_

_I do not co-own it with a cow_

_That wouldn't matter anyhow_

_I do not own it with a twist of lime_

_I do not own it any time_

_Also, I don't own "Green Eggs and Ham" or anything else by Dr. Seuss_

**Chapter 16**

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"

Carina's incessant questions about their next move had led him to reluctantly give a brief outline of the theory he had built based on what he had learned from Bartowski. She reacted to this with some skepticism.

At least the ex-DEA agent seemed to have moved past her funk. Casey had never thought he'd see Carina show any emotions other than sarcastic haughtiness, grouchy determination, and outright horniness. Frankly, he preferred her that way. But he'd finally managed to reach General Beckman, and the news that their teammates were alive and nearby seemed to cheer her slightly.

"We shouldn't be wasting our time here. We should be finding Morgan and Forrest and dealing with that rat-faced traitor." Casey had also relayed the news that Bailey had been working for Torrance.

Casey did share her frustration over what their next move would be. They were currently standing near the above-ground entrance to one of the Metro stations, watching the still-panicked people walk by. Carina had been hovering over him anxiously, while Hector stood a few feet away, silently watching the crowd. The woman's jumpiness was contagious, and Casey could feel himself getting uptight. He knew they had to do something, but if hat Beckman said was right, Bailey was on his way to the White House, and they couldn't just chase him in there. So, he was convinced that following Bartowski's lead was the right plan. As much as it made him feel physically ill to do so.

"I know the story sounds a bit strange, but it fits. You yourself said that Torrance's plan has to go beyond one assassination."

"Right, but I wasn't exactly talking about brain transplants or whatever the hell you're suggesting. Face it John, you've gone off the deep end. Did you run your thoughts by the General? She'll probably have somebody over here in a few minutes to take you in for psychiatric observation."

"The General agreed with my assessment."

Carina stared at Casey in amazement. Finally, she shook her head and said, "I should have stayed with the DEA. Everyone on this side is crazy. The only way somebody could really buy into this is if…" The redhead's eyes narrowed. "If the NSA was working on something similar. That's it, isn't it?"

Casey could see that they were treading on dangerous ground. "Of course not!"

Carina glanced back to see that Hector was walking a few feet behind them. "I think I'm right," she said quietly. "And I think you know more than you're saying, too." She smiled. "Why have you been in Burbank for so long, John? What have you been working on?" She stopped in her tracks. "Holy shit!"

Casey turned around. "What?"

"No wonder Walker is so fascinated with Chuck. He's got somebody else in his head. Who is it? Larkin? That would explain a lot."

Casey fought back a smirk. "Believe me, that annoying personality of Bartowski's is all his own. He's an ex-analyst, just like Walker told you."

* * *

Eager to change the subject, Casey said, "If we could move on from your ridiculous theories, can we at least agree now that we should at least explore this lead?"

Carina shrugged. "I suppose. As long as we do something. I'm tired of standing around here. But where exactly are we going to go?"

Casey grudgingly had to admit that she asked a good question. Even more grudgingly, he realized he would need help once again.

"I'll be right back," he told them.

Carina raised an eyebrow and smirked, but didn't say anything. Standing behind her, Hector remained impassive as always.

Casey walked past the escalators until he was out of earshot. He then reached into his pocket and dialed a number.

"Casey?" the response came.

"Bartowski. I have some questions about what you said in your message."

"Ok." Casey could hear the doubt in Bartowski's voice.

"This transfer of consciousness thing. Can it be done over a long distance, or is there some range limit."

For a moment, the line remained quiet. "So you actually agree with my assessment? No 'Quit letting that geeky sci-fi control your brain, Bartowski'? No 'Get your nose out of that comic book and rejoin real world, Dumbass'?"

Casey sighed. This was going to be a bigger pain than he'd originally thought. "Yes, I agree with your assessment."

"Hey Sarah!" Casey heard Bartowski say in the background. "I told you Casey would agree with me! You owe me big time now."

"Bartowski!" Casey growled. "Please don't torture me with your pillow talk, and just answer the question."

"Alright, alright. No, I don't think the transfer can be done over a long distance. The source, um the person being transferred, would have to be somewhat nearby. Probably within a mile or two."

That would mean that if his suspicions were correct, he would need to be looking in the area. That would give them something to work with. "One more question. When you were looking into Interglobal, were there any offices in the DC area?"

"You're in DC? Wow. If you have any free time you should really check out the Smithsonian. And I hear there's a new Spy Museum, though I guess the novelty wouldn't be there for you."

Casey chose not to admit that he loved the Spy Museum. "Bartowski."

"Right, I know. Just answer the question. I don't remember exactly. I'd have to do a search on the CIA server."

"Yeah, I'll have to check with Beckman to get you access, I guess."

"No need, hold on." Casey could hear keys tapping.

"Didn't you cancel your password when you quit the CIA, Bartowski?"

"Uh, must have slipped my mind."

Casey chuckled to himself. Apparently, the kid wasn't quite as anxious to leave the spy life behind as he'd let on.

"Ok. No Interglobal. But, hold on. It looks like, yeah. Here's the money trail I was following before. It didn't just lead to Interglobal. One of the other companies I found was called Tryptich Technologies, based in DC. Office on 17th and Q."

"Alright, thanks, Bartowski." As Casey was about to hang up, he realized he needed to say more. "Uh, you may want to give Walker a heads-up. Carina may be asking her a lot of questions when this is all up."

"Um, ok." After a couple of seconds, "You mean me questions, don't you. What did you tell her?"

"Nothing. She's smarter than she looks. She doesn't have everything right, but she knows enough that she might be getting nosy."

"Ok. I guess we can handle her. As long as she quits trying to seduce me. That's getting old."

Jesus. Him too? "Yeah well, good luck, Bartowski."

"You too." The line disconnected, and Casey returned to the others.

"Alright," he told them, "I know our next move."

* * *

"Damn." General Beckman hung up in frustration. "I can't get through to the White House."

"But you're a General!" Morgan protested. "And we busted the Ring! Doesn't that mean that the President has to listen to us?"

Beckman snorted. "Ever since the Elders were arrested, they've been doing their best to ignore the NSA and CIA. As if there hasn't been corruption everywhere else."

"Typical," Agent Forrest muttered. "I suppose they're holding Bailey against you."

General Beckman shook her head. "This whole mission was under the radar. There's no record of him being a part of this mission. And we did a thorough background check on him. There was no connection between him and Torrance."

"I'll bet you missed it," Morgan announced. "He's probably his illegitimate son or something."

The General gave him a long, hard look. "Anyway, there's no reason to point fingers at this point. The President's advisors have decided to keep their distance, and Bailey is exactly what they want: a clean-cut American hero. They aren't going to want to throw that away on a hunch. But we still can't give up."

Beckman glanced out the limousine window, a speculative look on her face. "Maybe we should aim lower. We may not be able to convince those at the top, but we can still bring you two in at the bottom."

* * *

The TV reporter's eyes widened as he saw Casey and the others return to his vantage point, where he'd currently been engaged in a man-on-the-street interview. He only briefly glanced at Casey and Hector, before his gaze magnetically turned towards Carina.

"Mary Anne, hi! I'm so glad you came back! I was worried."

"Yeah, good to see you too, Jason."

"It's Jared, but no problem. So are we still on for tonight?" Casey almost felt bad for the guy.

"Sure, but I was wondering if you could do one little favor for me?" Carina gave him a sweet smile.

"Anything."

"I need your van."

* * *

Casey had spent enough time in DC to know his general way around, and to be used to the traffic. Still, the day's events at the Washington Monument had led to some additional panic-induced gridlock. As the van was stuck at one intersection, he turned to Carina. "Nice job back there. You can really turn it on and off when you need to."

The ex-DEA agent shrugged. "I did what was needed."

Casey flashed a malicious grin. "Sure, but I'd bet Grimes would have been a bit jealous."

"He knows we're on a mission, and he'd understand."

Casey seriously doubted that. "And Sandoval?"

Carina looked down. "That's different."

"He better in the sack than Grimes?"

Carina glared at him. "Martin and I had nothing to do with sex, as hard as that may be for you to believe. It was much more than that."

Casey decided not to press further, but there was still one question he wanted to ask. "What did you whisper to him, back there?"

Carina looked at Casey sadly, and didn't answer. Casey turned his attention back to the road, as the traffic began to move again.

A few blocks later, he heard her say, "I told him my name. My real one."

Casey thought about this as the van got closer to its destination. He found his thoughts shifting to his daughter, and what she might be doing at the moment. What if this mission went wrong, and he didn't make it through? How would she react? Would they even tell her what had happened? He wanted to shelter her from some of the details of his life, but she deserved to know that he had died serving his country.

All of these thoughts gave him a new determination to put an end to Torrance and the remnants of the Ring. Fortunately, he didn't have to drive over any pedestrians in that effort, as the traffic finally began to start scattering.

A minute later, they pulled into a parking space near the Tryptich Technologies office. He wasn't sure what to expect inside there. If he was right, they would be guarding something valuable, and that meant it wouldn't be easy to get past them. They would need a plan.

Unfortunately, before he could come up with on, Hector burst through the van's back door and ran into the building.


	17. Chapter 17

_So, we're getting into the home stretch here, but I won't be able to do any updates for the next couple of weeks. After that, I'll get to work on the ending, plus some more stuff for the "B-side", including a bit on the Carina/Sandoval backstory._

_When asked, four out of five dentists said that I don't own "Chuck." I think the fifth was high on nitrous oxide though, so his opinion probably isn't worth anything._

**Chapter 17**

"Geez, when General Beckman said the bottom, she really meant the bottom, huh?"

"Oh stop complaining Grimes. We're here, and that's what matters." Agent Forrest gave Morgan a stern look, and then returned to dusting the desk standing in front of her.

Morgan supposed that it was nice that Beckman had the sway to get two people on the White House cleaning crew on short notice. A lifetime of service to the nation had its perks. Still, just being in the building wasn't much of victory to celebrate. Agent Bailey was here somewhere, about to be congratulated by the President. And that was for killing someone who was apparently one of his own Ring allies. None of this made any sense to Morgan, but he could only imagine that the situation wasn't good news for the president.

Of course, this being the White House, the hallways were crawling with Secret Service. It would be very difficult to do any exploring. This pretty much left them stuck in their current position, making the Blue Room bright and clean.

"So what do we do now?" Morgan asked after deciding that the bust of James Polk was sufficiently dust-free. "Bailey is somewhere with the president right now, getting knighted or being given the keys to the city or being named Ambassador to Suriname. And then who knows what he's going to do." Beckman had made some vague hints about Bailey's plans, which would have sounded ridiculous to him if he hadn't already known about the Intersect. Agent Forrest hadn't questioned it, but Morgan could tell that it was only her loyalty that was keeping her from expressing her doubts

"Relax. We just need to establish our presence here," the CIA Agent said, "so that the guards outside don't get suspicious. Then we can move on to the next room."

"Sounds like awfully slow work." And an awful lot of cleaning, he thought to himself.

"Well if anything happens there'll be some sort of commotion, and we can move quicker without worrying about being watched."

"Yeah, but won't that thing that happens be something bad?"

Forrest sighed. "The situation isn't ideal, but it's what we have to work. Come on, we should be able to move to the next room now."

* * *

"Damn it!" Casey watched the enormous figure of Hector burst into the Tryptich Technologies lobby. He quickly moved to follow him, Carina at his heels.

He knew he shouldn't have trusted the giant. Even if Sandoval's loyalties had turned out to be murkier than he'd originally feared, there was no reason to believe that Hector would be the same.

He moved to the side of the front door, carefully peering inside. For a while it seemed quiet, before he saw a figure fall over, accompanied by the sound of a muted grunt. A moment later, Hector stuck his head through the door, waving two guns. He handed one to Casey, the other to Carina.

"Thank you, Hector," Carina smiled, and Casey followed her inside.

In the lobby there were two bodies slumped over, clearly the victim of the giant's physical strength. Casey decided that he could keep any further doubts regarding Hector's allegiances to himself.

The lobby was a fairly elaborate combination of marble and brass, far too gaudy for Casey's taste. The whole floor seemed to be there for show only, as he couldn't see a front desk or directory anywhere. The centerpiece of the area seemed to be a large spiral staircase. At the end of the staircase, he could see a couple of elevators, their likely route to whatever was being hidden in the building.

Before he could beginning ascending the stairwell, the sound of footsteps appeared from above and several armed guards appeared. He ducked to the side to avoid the gunfire, before taking a shot at them.

"This is no good!" Carina shouted as she narrowly avoided the barrage of bullets. "They've got the higher ground!"

"No kidding," Casey responded. They wouldn't be able to hold out for long. He joined a still unarmed Hector at the end of the chamber beyond the staircase. It was the safest place to be, Casey realized, as the bullets couldn't reach down there. But it was a dead-end, and they would be sitting ducks if anyone else came in.

"Hold on, I have an idea." Carina stepped underneath the stairwell, and began climbing her way underneath the stairs, her hands finding a grip in the empty spaces between steps. She agilely worked her way upwards, and was soon halfway to the upper level.

As Casey was marveling at the redhead's nimbleness, he saw the boot of one of the guards appear on the upper step. He made his way a little further downward, and began to crouch down, looking to see if he could reach Casey and Hector. Before he could take aim, Carina reached an elbow over and knocked the guard over the stairwell.

She worked her way up a little more, and then quickly flipped over the side of the stairs until she was back on her feet. One of the remaining guards was standing nearby, and she delivered a quick stab to his plexus.

Unfortunately, the other guards were ready for her. She dodged the shot from the first guard, but wasn't able to avoid the second. She let out a yelp as the bullet hit her in the arm.

* * *

Before Casey could react, Hector moved. With a speed that belied his size, he moved around the room and began to climb the stairs. The guard standing over Carina looked up, and aimed his gun at the rapidly ascending giant.

The first bullet hit Hector in the shoulder. The large man didn't slow down, and continued to climb. Seeing his opportunity, Casey followed Hector up the steps. Despite his own not insubstantial size, he was completely blocked by the giant. While this meant that he was temporarily safe from the guards' aim, it also meant that he couldn't get a shot off either. Still, he was getting a better position, thanks to his silent ally. In another life, Hector would have made a great offensive lineman.

The first guard had paused in surprise when the giant continued to move, but now took another shot. Casey could see Hector push slightly backwards as he was hit in the chest, but again he continued to move. The guard didn't get a chance for a third shot, as Hector's large hand grabbed him and pushed him aside, sending him crashing to the ground underneath.

At this point the two other guards had lost interest in Carina, and were both firing at Hector. This time, they managed to do damage and the large man fell to his knees just as he reached the top step. However, Casey was right behind and leaped over to one of the guards, delivering a vicious right hook. A second later, he turned around and fired a shot at the last guard, hitting him in the temple.

Casey checked on Hector first, but the giant had fallen on his face, with no sign of a pulse. He then hurried over to Carina, who was struggling to push herself to her feet. He offered his arm in support, and she clung to him as she got her balance.

"Is he…" she spoke.

Casey shook his head. "I've never seen anyone take so many shots before going down. You had one hell of a bodyguard there."

Carina nodded sadly.

"You ok to move on?" Casey asked gently. "You can wait here or outside."

"No. We've come this far. Let's see what these people are hiding. But where to?"

"The sixth floor," Casey rumbled. "I took a look when we were outside. It's the only floor without windows. That must be the place. But we'll have to take some more stairs." He wasn't about to get himself pinned in an elevator.

* * *

They found the stairs further down the hallway, and silently began their ascent. Carina had bandaged her arm with part of a shirt she tore away from one of the guards. Casey could see that she was moving slowly, but her pace was steady. She was tougher than she looked.

They moved carefully, being sure not to make any quick turns that would put them at the mercy of anyone lurking above. This kept them safely bullet-free several times, as Triptych guards had been waiting in ambush for them.

Finally, they reached the sixth floor, and Casey peered through the glass window in the doorway. Four more armed guards were standing in the hallway beyond the door. "Great," he rumbled, "more fun."

Standing to the side of the door, he smashed open the window with the handle of his firearm. The immediate gunfire that followed made it clear that the door was not bullet-proof. Leaning away from the door, he reached up and fired his gun through the broken window. A moment later, he leaned away, and Carina reached up and took her turn firing at the guards.

After a few minutes of this, Casey hazarded a quick look through the window. Only one of the guards was down. "We got one of them," he said to Carina.

"Like I said before, I'm a good shot."

Casey wasn't sure that she'd been the one to hit the guard, but he let that pass. He could see that she was in some pain, but hadn't said one word in complaint. "You're a pretty decent Agent, you know that?"

Carina flashed a quick a smile as she ducked back away from the door. "Why John, was that a compliment?" After the sound of bullets blasting through the door ended, she added, "So, am I better than Walker?"

"No," Casey answered quickly. "But you're good. And, whatever Sandoval was to you, I'm sorry you lost him." Casey reached back up and took his turn firing through the window, hearing the satisfying grunt as his bullet made contact.

"Thank you, John." She put a hand on his arm as he returned to the floor. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry I questioned your choices before. You were right. Clearly they're guarding more than just paperwork here."

After another minute, Casey snuck another glance through the window. "There's only two of them left," he commented. "Too bad Hector's not here. We could use another one of his bull rushes."

Carina chuckled. "We could stick him in a wheelbarrow like in 'Princess Bride.'"

Casey gave her a look. "Sleep with Grimes once and his geekery has already rubbed off on you."

"Twice."

"Huh?"

"I slept with him twice, remember?" She gave him an infuriating smile.

"Whatever. How about we rush on through the door on the count of three?"

"You're really a cowboy at heart, aren't you John?" She sighed. "Alright, the count of three."

"One…"

"Two…"

"Three!" They pushed their way through the door, guns blazing.

* * *

The hallway ended in a single door, with further entry blocked by a retinal scan. Casey looked back at the four former guards now lying on the floor, all victims of Casey and Carina's onslaught. He leaned down to turn over the first body, only to find a bloody mess where the eyes should be.

"Really, did you have to shoot him in the eye?" he asked Carina.

"Hey, we were moving quickly. Pinpoint aiming wasn't really an option."

Casey grunted, and moved onto the second body. Finding the retinas thankfully intact, he began dragging the guard over to the doorway. He pried open the eyelids, and the scanner successfully recognized the now sightless retina.

"Stand behind me," he told Carina. "There may be more of them inside."

When he pulled open the door, though, there were only two people inside the room. One of them, an older man dressed in a white lab coat, looked up in surprise when Casey entered. He quickly backed away when the NSA agent raised his firearm. There would be no fighting here.

The second man was lying on one of two beds set up in the room, showing no signs of life. Casey easily recognized the face as that of Peter Torrance, last Elder of the Ring. He was strapped down on the bed, with several tubes surrounding his body. A small dome was situated above his head, with a soft humming sound emanating from it. A nearby heart monitor was beeping in a slow, steady rhythm.

"We've found him," Carina said as she walked into the room.

"Yup," Casey replied, before approaching the man in the lab coat. "You in charge of things here?"

"I…I'm just a doctor," the other man stammered.

"So you know about all of this…stuff," Casey waved his arm at the large room, encompassing all of the equipment and machines.

"Uh, I guess," the doctor said nervously, as Carina approached him, gun in hand.

"And all this brain transplant stuff, that's for real?"

"You mean the Cognitive Temporal Disassociation? Yes, I suppose."

Casey approached Torrance's motionless form. "So tell me, Doc. If I put a bullet through ol' Petey right now, does that mean his brain is going to die as well?"

The doctor straightened slightly, apparently finding some of his reservoir of confidence. He shook his head, and said, "That's the beauty of it. If you did, his consciousness would continue to reside in its current location permanently."

"Bailey," Casey guessed. The doctor didn't respond, but Casey didn't doubt that he was correct.

"So wait," Carina spoke up. "Bailey's been 'possessed' by Torrance this entire time? Then he really isn't a traitor?"

"I wouldn't believe that," Casey responded. "In order for Torrance's consciousness to inhabit someone else, he needs to be nearby." The doctor nodded, supporting Bartowski's theory. The kid had actually been right, though Casey didn't particularly want to have to tell him that. "So I'm sure he was always working for Torrance. Did he volunteer to be Torrance's host?"

"He was always an …enthusiastic boy. Torrance had made contact with him when he was still in training."

"And now he's at the White House," Carina added. "What's he going to do, kill the president?"

The doctor didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Casey already knew the answer. "No. He's going to _become_ the president."

* * *

Carina stood there silently for a moment, her gun still pointed at the doctor. "So what do we do?" she finally asked. "Can we even get there in time to do anything?"

Casey quickly scanned the room. Carina was right about their limited options, but there could be something they could do. His eyes fell upon the second bed. Similar to the first, it was underneath a metal dome. Leaning next to the bed was a long plastic rod, with a trigger on the end. He walked over and picked it up.

"It looks like you have a backup," he said to the doctor. "Is that thing set up?"

The doctor didn't answer, until Carina prodded him with her gun. "Yeah, it works."

"Well, can you get it up and running?"

"John, are you sure…"

"This might be our best chance," Casey interrupted. He turned to the Doctor, who was still standing there silently. "Well, get it going already! And no tricks. My partner has quite the temper."

* * *

_Hope those of you who haven't given up on the story are still enjoying it (weird twists and all). Please review and let me know how things are going!_


	18. Chapter 18

_I'm back. Sorry about the lag between postings, but I was on vacation. _

_I don't own 'Chuck.' I almost had it, when I picked up the wrong luggage at the airport. But apparently those new security checks really work, so no go._

**Chapter 18**

It took an uncharacteristic level of agility, but Morgan was able to grab the cup just before it hit the ground. Any sound or disruption would bring the prying eyes the Secret Service, which was exactly what he didn't want. He also wasn't too keen on the idea of Benjamin Harrison's descendents coming after him for destroying a piece of their valuable tea set.

He'd been through several rooms of these priceless antiques, all gifts offered to past Presidents that had stayed at the White House after their temporary owners had left. Even though he wasn't there to ogle the treasures, he couldn't help but be impressed. He could only imagine the various State Dinners at which all of the swag had been presented.

Morgan glanced up at the mirror behind the tea set. Years ago, he never would have imagined being a spy, and yet here he was. So was it so crazy to imagine Morgan Grimes, Commander in Chief? He straightened, and gave his reflection a steely gaze.

"Ah, Mr. Prime Minister. It's so good of you to come here all the way from Moscow. May I present to you my wife, the First Lady Olivia Wilde Grimes?"

A second later, the illusion vanished as Morgan reminded himself of why he was there. It was time to move to the next room, part of their plan to slowly work their way towards the White House's inner sanctum. Currently, Agent Forrest was making similar advances at the other end of the hall, figuring that keeping the two of them separate would lead to less suspicion. It only took one person to clean a room, after all. Morgan took his dust rag, and headed back into the hallway.

"Hey! You there!"

Morgan turned around to see a Secret Service agent giving him a suspicious sneer.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh, just cleaning up." Morgan waved his rag to emphasize the point.

"You're moving from room to room awfully quick. Not very thorough, are you?"

"Oh, you know, I'm working on a deadline." Morgan instinctively backed up as the aAgent approached.

The man's eyes narrowed as he neared Morgan. "I haven't seen you here before."

"I'm new here. First day."

The Agent wasn't convinced. "Maybe." He spoke something into a wrist, and a moment later another agent appeared. With the identical suits and close-cropped hair, Morgan felt like he was looking at a pair of very belligerent twins.

The Second agent approached, and grabbed Morgan's wrist. "I think you should come with us."

"But I have a job to do!"

"So do we. And that's to protect the President from any suspicious activity. And you are suspicious."

Seeing that his cover was blown, Morgan tried to rationally think of a plan. Instead, he panicked. He swatted the dust rag at the face of the second Secret Service agent. The Agent released him, and Morgan turned around and ran.

Seeing no other way out, Morgan headed towards the front door. Unfortunately, there were other agents outside, and Morgan suddenly found an army of his tax dollars at work chasing him down the south lawn. As he approached the front gate, two other guards were waiting for him, guns drawn.

"Oh crap!" Morgan exclaimed as he slowed down. He raised his hand over his head. "I surrender!"

As the first Agent grabbed him from behind, Morgan saw a news van in the distance. The van slowed down as it got closer to the gate, and he thought he saw a flash of red hair, immediately followed by a glint of black. Then everything went dark.

* * *

The last thing Casey remembered before his mind went blank was the sight of the mysterious doctor placing electrodes around his head. The next thing he knew, he could only see gray, with see some moving shapes within the fog. Indistinct sounds came from hazy shapes. A moment later, things began to clear, and he could make out several over-dressed men standing around him, looking none too friendly. Secret service.

Turning slowly, Casey was able to make out the White House in the distance. So the plan worked. He was where he wanted to be, but the locals weren't too receptive. He didn't consider this to be much of a problem. Secret Service agents took themselves seriously, and were extremely addicted to protocol, but they could be budged with a little force. Nobody that spent their day in a suit was a real threat.

"Hold on," he said as he pushed his way to his feet. Once upright, he was surprised to see that the Agents were all unusually tall. He also noticed that his face was itching. It took only a few seconds more for him to realize where, and who, he now was. "Damn you, Carina," he muttered. It would be just like her warped sense of humor to zap him into Grimes.

The various Secret Service members crowded around gave Casey an odd look before one of them reached to grab him. Casey pulled his arm away, leading to a few of the agents re-drawing their weapons.

"Hey!" Casey grunted, trying to ignore the high pitch of the grunt as it slipped from Morgan's mouth. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What do you think? You're coming with us."

"Don't be an idiot. Couldn't you tell I wanted to speak with you outside, away from prying eyes? Haven't you Secret Service morons dealt with someone undercover before?"

A few of the Secret Service chuckled at the belligerent words coming from such a small person. But the head agent looked a bit confused. "But you ran. After you tried to hit me with a dust rag."

Grimes is such an idiot, Casey thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "A dust rag? Seriously? You thought I was trying to injure you with a dust rag? I was trying to get your attention." He nodded to the side, and the agent followed him, with the other Secret Service making way for them. "Look. I was just brought in today because of what happened earlier. The guy that took a shot at the Secretary of State? I'd been following him for months. He works for a man who was part of that organization that tried to take over the government a few months ago."

"I thought he was killed?"

"He was, but there could be more out there just like him. I work for Colonel John Casey of the NSA. He answers to General Diane Beckman, she'll back me up. But I need to get back in there now, before anything further can happen."

The Secret Service Agent still looked undecided. "I really should have known about this."

"Well, you know, this is a joint task force, and the logistics are run by the CIA. You know how those guys are."

The other man chuckled. Nothing like the widespread dislike of the CIA to grease the wheels. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, go ahead. But I'm checking with this General Beckman right away." He gave Casey a once over. "You sure you'll be alright if push comes to shove. No offense, but you don't look like you'd be much good in a fight."

"You'd be surprised," Casey responded. "Inside, I'm a born fighter." He clapped the agent on the back and headed into the White House.

* * *

After some cursory searching, Casey found Agent Forrest in one of the many dining rooms. She looked up warily as he walked in. "You're supposed to be at the other end of the house, Grimes."

"No need to waste time, Forrest. I've got the Secret Service on our side. We need to find Bailey now."

Apparently, Casey's manner of addressing her caught her by surprise. "Excuse me?"

Casey sighed. "It's me, Casey."

He'd hoped that the General had given Forrest a brief rundown of what was going on, but it clearly hadn't been enough to convince her. "Don't be an idiot, Grimes. Now's not the time for jokes."

Clearly, there was no time for debate. "Look, it's me. If I were Grimes, would I be able to remind of what the two of us did together in the Castle weapons room? Twice?"

Agent Forrest turned white. "J- Agent Casey promised he wouldn't tell anybody about that!"

"_I_ didn't, damn it. Trust me, as strange as it might seem, it's me. I borrowed Torrance's toy to get in here, but Agent Miller thought it would be a fun idea to stick me in Grimes's body."

"Then all that stuff the General said, that's for real?"

"Uh huh. And there's more to it. Apparently there is both a long-range transmitter and a short-range one. Carina used the long-range one to transfer me over. But Torrance, or Bailey, must have the other one. Either way, it looks like he plans to take control of the President. Then there's no telling what he can do."

Forrest listened to Casey's explanation, then shook her head. "I miss the days of bad guys just stealing bombs."

"You and me both. But we can still deal with them in the old-fashioned way once we stop them. Now come on."

"How do you know where to go?" Forrest asked as she followed Casey down the labyrinth of hallways.

"I've done my homework. Most of the time when there's some concern about security, they bring the President in through the east side."

"Probably started when that jackass Clinton was running from reporters."

Casey resisted the temptation to find another weapons closet, and focused on the matter at hand. Besides, he wasn't sure he wanted to try anything like that in this particular body.

* * *

"I see him."

Casey stopped in his tracks, and pulled Forrest back behind the corner.

"The President?" Forrest whispered.

"No. Bailey," Casey replied, scratching his chin. "He's being escorted by a couple more Secret Service guys."

"Great. So what are you going to do? You weren't planning on fighting your way through them, were you?"

"Hmm. Talking my way through will be harder with him there. I can bully them, but not Torrance." Casey rubbed his face again, scratching at the beard. "Damn, how can Grimes wear this thing?"

Forrest gave him a speculative look. "Is he…in there, now?"

"What?"

"Well, we might need him. He's good with situations like this. Maybe you could…switch to him?"

"Agent Forrest, are you telling me you'd rather have Grimes here than me?"

"Well, not if it comes to a fight, but he _is_ clever."

"Well, it's not going to happen," Casey growled. "I'm the only pilot right now."

Forrest nodded. "Ok. Well then, what would he do in a situation like this?"

Casey rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous, and we don't have time."

Forrest ignored him, and stood there quietly for another few seconds. "Hold on. That's not actually Bailey, that's Torrance, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Then he doesn't actually know who Grimes is, and won't recognize you."

"True." Torrance would know John Casey, but not Morgan Grimes.

"So maybe you could use that, and get him to trip up."

"Huh," Casey thought about it. "Might be worth a try. But you cover me when I go up there."

"I can't. I'm unarmed. No way to bring a weapon in here without damaging my cover."

Casey grunted, which led to a chuckle from Forrest. "What?"

"That grunt just sounds so unnatural coming from Morgan."

"Whatever. Just be ready in case things go south."

* * *

"Andy? Andy Bailey? Hey, long time, no see, buddy!"

Though it probably didn't really matter, Casey found himself trying to imitate Grimes's inflections. His naturally annoying tendencies would probably increase the believability of the ruse.

The Secret Service agents drew their weapons as Casey approached, watching him uncertainly. Bailey looked up as well. Casey could see irritation and impatience in his eyes, but no sign of recognition. So it was what he had suspected. Torrance was in there, and had no idea of who Grimes was. He could also see a coldness in Bailey's eyes that hadn't been there before. Of course, Bailey himself had been acting when Casey had met him, but what Casey could see now could only have been created by years of hatred. Years that Torrance, but not Bailey, had under his belt.

"What?" Casey continued. "It's me, Mike. Mike Anderson. From high school? We were in geometry class together. I was a senior, you were a freshman?"

Bailey/Torrance studied the newcomer intently. Casey hoped that Torrance hadn't done his homework on Bailey. The Agents continued to monitor the situation, seeing no immediate threat. One of them, who seemed to be somewhat in charge, finally spoke. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

Casey did his best nonchalant shrug. "Oh, I work here. Cleaning crew. Guess I haven't been as successful as you, Andy. I knew I should have copied off of you. Probably not too much surprise to everybody back home. Coolidge High's 'most likely to wind up in domestic service' year 2000, right?"

No one budged. Casey tried again. "How's your sister? I always wanted to talk to her back then, but she'd never give me the time of day. Figures, since she was the prettiest girl in my class."

It was clear that Torrance had to make a move. Grudgingly he said, "She's fine."

Casey saw the lead agent's eyes narrow. At least one member of the Secret Service had done his homework. The death of Andy Bailey's sister, killed by a drunk driver at age 14, had been one of the reasons for his wanting to enter public service. It had been discussed in his entry interview to the CIA, the documents of which were public record.

"Hold it," the Agent said. "Something's not right here."

Bailey/Torrance quickly read the situation. He reached into his shirt pocket before Casey could react. The bulge in the pocket was too small to contain a firearm, so the Secret Service agents didn't move on him.

Bailey removed his hand from his pocket, carrying a small pen with him. It took only a second for Casey to realize that it was the second transmitter. He rushed forward, but was too late.

As soon as Bailey clicked on the pen, his face went momentarily blank. The young man's features rapidly shift a second later, suddenly registering shock and fear. The real Andy Bailey was back in control.

As Casey watched this, he almost missed the lead agent's expression shift, then immediately draw his gun. Bailey, still trying to figure out where he was, didn't see this, and wasn't expecting the explosion and the shot that immediately followed it. He hit the ground, his face blank once again.

The other agents looked in surprise at their boss, now firmly under Torrance's control. "We need to get to the President now," he said. "Whatever is going on, Bailey's in on it. And you'd better take this other one in to," he gestured toward Casey.

As Torrance ran off down the hall, the other agent's drew their weapons at Casey.

* * *

_We're near the home stretch. Only 2 or 3 more chapters to go. As always, comments and reviews are greatly valued._


	19. Chapter 19

_For the 19th time, I don't own "Chuck." Now quit askin'._

**Chapter 19**

As a general rule, the Secret Service aren't the friendliest people, due to their heavy responsibilities. Socializing only seems harmless until your charge gets shot you're your attention is diverted. So they end up having to treat everyone as strangers, or possibly even nuisances. Casey usually respected that level of seriousness.

The group of unsmiling faces currently approaching him was the exception to that.

He didn't see any chance of talking his way out of this one. After Torrance had shot Bailey, caution went out the window, and the agents would have to assume everyone was a danger. Even listening to Casey would be seen as an unacceptable risk. One would think that looking like Morgan Grimes would make him seem non-threatening, he thought ruefully.

Before he could make a move, a whirl of motion appeared from behind, knocking one of the agents to the ground. Casey blinked, and saw Agent Forrest set upon a second agent. He grunted in resignation. He hadn't wanted to fight his way out of this, but he supposed Forrest had chosen their only viable option. He moved up to one of the remaining men, and swung for his solar plexus. His fist brushed over the man's shirt, missing any actual contact.

"Can't get used to these damn short arms," he grumbled.

The Agent had been chuckling at the missed punch, but paused in confusion at Casey's statement. This gave the NSA agent a second opportunity. This time he raised his knee, making contact with the Secret Service agent's groin.

Desperate times.

The agent doubled over in pain. Casey looked up to see Forrest take care of the last agent. He motioned for her to follow him, and they headed back down the hall.

* * *

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Hey, we got past them, right? And they'll be fine in a few minutes."

Casey grudgingly had to agree. Still, he hated being rescued, almost as much as he hated needing to be.

"We have to hurry. Torrance is a few minutes ahead of us."

"Yeah, I know." Forrest held out her hand, revealing two firearms that she had taken from the Secret Service agents. Casey gratefully took one. "I hid the other two. Don't want them shooting us from behind."

"Well, there will be more of them soon." They continued down the hallway, pausing every few feet to make sure nobody was standing in wait for them. Despite this, they were still surprised when a bullet missed Casey's head by mere inches.

Casey snuck a quick glance, and recognized the agent that had shot Bailey. Torrance.

Forrest and Casey both fired back, but their target had ducked back behind a doorway. From Casey's vantage point, it appeared that Torrance had chosen one of the White House libraries for his hideout. Which meant that any stray bullets would probably destroy something valuable. Casey didn't care that much. He was never much for museums.

"I know it's you, Torrance. Why don't you just friggin' surrender."

The other man chuckled, before sending another volley of bullets toward Casey and Forrest. Fortunately, they all missed. No matter how diabolical the man was, he'd spent most of his life behind a desk, and was rusty when it came to fieldwork. "Not likely," the ex-Elder replied. "I have things right where I want them, Agent…"

"Casey."

"John Casey? Really. I thought you'd be taller." There was a pause for a moment, after Casey's last shot went wide, leading to a crashing sound from the library. Judging from the noise, Casey's shot had probably hit a mirror. Just what he needed, more bad luck.

"Wait," Torrance continued, "you've been playing with my toys, haven't you?"

Casey grunted. "Then you know me. You know I was there to bring down your whole little organization."

"Please. Those fools?" Torrance's voice rose slightly. "A bunch of shortsighted idiots only interested in increasing their own bank accounts? All you did was help me get them out of the way." Another shot went wide, and Forrest shot back. But Torrance stayed out of sight, not offering much of a target.

"So you're just going to go over there and become the president?"

"Why not?" Casey could hear the excitement in Torrance's voice continue to build. If he could get him a little more worked up, he could become careless, which was just what Casey needed.

"This country is a mess," the ex-Ring member continued. "The Ring's idea to take over the military would only go so far, and the other Elders were fine with using it as a way to line their pockets with lucrative government contracts. But in the end, it won't change the way this country works. To do that, you need to change things from the very top."

"And how do you do that? By election?" Torrance scoffed. "This country's two-party system is a joke, and each side is as impotent as the other. And a coup is only temporary, as any violent uprising just creates a set of new enemies chomping at the bit to take you down. No, a different type of approach was needed. After all, the best type of coup is one where nobody even realized that it happened."

Casey had to admit that he had often felt frustrated by the people at the very top making all of the decisions. There were times we wished he could march right up to the Capitol and deliver a good ass-kicking. But he believed in this country, and its system. So if Torrance was looking for any sympathy for his cause, he wasn't going to find it. But at least he could continue to egg him on.

"You're a moron, Torrance. You think people won't suddenly suspect something when policies suddenly change out of the blue? What are you going to do then, jump into the vice president? Face it. You're a fool."

Casey had hoped that this would rile Torrance enough to get him to make a mistake. Instead, he just chuckled, and stayed out of sight. "Maybe so. But I still have the advantage." Casey heard the crackle of a com device a moment later, followed by Torrance's voice, now sounding urgent and scared. "Yeah, this is Agent Larson. There's enemy gunfire by the east library. I need backup."

Back in his own wheedling tone, Torrance said, "So let's see how your playing by the rules works now, Agent John Casey. Are you going to shoot your way through innocent Secret Service agents? I'm guessing that you had something to do with the Secretary of State still being alive, even though saving him would make it harder to get to me. You were willing to compromise then, will you now?" A moment later, Torrance ran down the hall, with Casey's last shot going wide.

* * *

"You go after him," Agent Forrest said to Casey after Torrance had disappeared. "I'll handle whoever comes next."

"You sure?" Casey asked. Then after a pause, "You're not going to shoot them, are you?"

"No, I'm not going to shoot them. I'll just keep them busy for a bit. But you'd better go now."

Casey gave her an unsure look, and she said, "Trust me." A second later, her face crumpled, and tears began streaming down her face. Still in her cover uniform, Forrest looked like a scared maid and not a hardened NSA agent.

He shrugged, and headed down the hallway. As he left, he could hear footsteps behind him, and then the sound of Forrest bawling. "It was so horrible! So many guns firing, so loud! You're going to protect me, aren't you?"

"Where'd the men go, Ma'am?" Casey heard somewhere ask her.

"It was…off to the right somewhere. You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

Casey shook his head and moved on.

* * *

Once you reach a certain level of clearance at the NSA, you get access to a lot of potentially useful information. That includes access to the White House floor plan, including how to access parts of the building that almost nobody knows about. So Casey had little trouble finding his way towards the secret entrance to which the president was being led. He knew that Torrance likely knew as much as he did, so any seconds lost wandering about would have been costly. He already had to make up the time lost thanks to having Grimes-sized legs.

Soon enough, he heard voices ahead. Gun drawn, he crept quietly forward. Torrance was standing at an open wall panel, with several black-clad men swiftly moving inside. Once all of the guards had entered, the President came into view.

"Mr. President," Torrance said. "We need to get you to safety right now." He reached into his pocket, his fingers touching the pen.

Casey ran into view. "Mr. President. Get down!" He quickly raised his gun.

Unlike hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship is mainly a mental skill. It requires little in the way of physical fitness, other than good eyesight. That, luckily, was one thing that Grimes seemed to have. Other than that, it was mainly an issue of concentration and skill, all of which Casey had in spades. And it was his brain, not Grimes's, that was in control. The only other problem was the difference in height, which he had gradually been adjusting for during his earlier firefight with Torrance.

He only had time for one shot, so he made sure it was a good one. The bullet hit Torrance in the forehead, knocking him back. Casey watched the pen drop harmlessly to the ground, until one of the Secret Service agents stepped on it.

Casey barely had a second to react before the mass of agents set upon him. He was immediately knocked to the ground, and his face was pushed into the floor. A moment later, everything went blank again.

* * *

When the fog finally cleared, Casey found himself lying on the bed in the makeshift hospital room at Triptych headquarters. Carina was watching over him, a slight smile on her face.

"Torrance flatlined a couple of minutes ago. I figured it was time to bring you back."

"Yeah, it looks like the Ring is now fresh out of Elders."

Carina nodded, still smiling. "And I'm guessing you'd had your fill of being brain-mates with Morgan."

"Yeah, thanks for that, by the way." Casey pushed himself to his feet, trying to ignore the aching in his head. It was like one of the bad hangovers he'd experienced in his younger days. As he stood up, he noticed the doctor slumped over in the corner.

"He was starting to get a bit antsy, so I took care of him." Seeing Casey's expression, Carina rolled her eyes. "What, I just knocked him out. I had to have some satisfaction out of this. _I_ didn't get to shoot the bad guy."

"I didn't just shoot the bad guy," Casey said sadly. "I had to shoot an innocent man too. A Secret Service agent. In the wrong place at the wrong time."

"And Torrance had been piggy-backing off him," Carina nodded. "Did you really have a choice?"

"Probably not. But it still sucks."

"Hmm. Well at least it's over now."

"Not exactly." Carina looked up, her eyes questioning. "It's Grimes. Just as I was leaving, they were taking me…him, down. He's in custody right now."


	20. Chapter 20

_I do not own 'Chuck.' Thought I did, but I believe it got sucked up in my vacuum cleaner._

_Stupid Roomba!_

**Chapter 20**

"_I miss my baby and I feel so sad_

_I guess my race is run_

_She's the best girl that I ever had_

_I fought the law and the law won_

_I fought the law and the…"_

"Stop that!"

Morgan looked up at the glass to see the guard glaring back at him, arms enfolded.

"Do you really want to add murdering that song to the list of your crimes? The glass is escape-proof, not sound proof."

Morgan sighed. The angry guard had been his only form of human companionship for as long as he could remember now. Most of that had consisted of being baited, mocked, and yelled at. The guy was like what Morgan imagined Casey would be like, if he wasn't allowed to drink scotch.

And all because he'd snuck into the White House. Well, he could understand how that would be frowned upon, but he'd had a good reason for his false pretenses. One would think that Beckman would have spoken up on his behalf by now.

The whole incident had been very confusing too. He remembered being shoved to the ground by the Secret Service, and then things went blank. The next thing he could remember was waking up and finding himself trapped in this cell. And he'd now spent God-knows how long in there. He'd tried to mark off the days on the wall, but he hadn't anything to write with. It didn't matter, since he'd lost count anyway.

He thought of all the people he might not see anymore. Chuck. His mother. Big Mike. Ellie and her husband, whose name he'd managed to forget in his incarceration. Casey. Sarah. Even Lester and Jeff, wherever they might be. He wondered if they had noticed that he was missing. He imagined that Chuck would suspect something, having been a spy himself. Maybe they'd try to break him out. But how would they know where he was? He didn't even know.

After a few more hours of mulling over his current plight, he heard the footsteps of the guard again. Great, more abuse, he thought. To his surprise, however, the guard had a different expression on his face than the superior one he usually wore. Now, he almost looked embarrassed.

"Mr. Grimes. It looks like you are free to go."

"What?"

The guard didn't say anything, but a moment later the glass door slid away, and Morgan could feel the cool air of freedom.

He followed the guard down a long hall. The silence continued until they reached a door. As he was about to open it, Morgan's captor said, "Uh, on behalf of the US Government, I sincerely apologize for everything. I…had no idea you were such a hero." He held out his hand, and after a pause Morgan shook it. Might as well be the bigger man.

The door opened, and Morgan practically burst through. Three figures were seated in the waiting room on the other side. The first stood up as Morgan entered. "Grimes. Glad to see you're ok," Casey shook his hand.

A second later, Carina came up and gave him a big hug. Right after that, the third person did as well. "Uh, hi, Agent Forrest," a surprise Morgan said.

Forrest stepped away, her face once again impassive. "Agent Grimes."

Morgan looked around at his three teammates. "So what happened? It seemed like I was public enemy number one there for a while, and now I was treated like a hero."

Nobody answered right away. "There was some confusion over what happened," Casey finally said. "General Beckman had to explain what had occurred as best as she could, while leaving out certain details. Not an easy task."

"You're a hero, Morgan, congratulations," Carina smiled.

"Wait, what did I do?"

"Well…officially, you killed one of Torrance's agents, just as he was about to attempt to assassinate the President."

Morgan looked at the others in shock. "I did?"

"Officially."

Morgan noted that Casey had used the word twice. "What do you mean, officially?"

"Well, that wasn't exactly how things went down," Carina replied. "The man that they think was going to assassinate the President, that actually was Torrance. Sort of."

"So…I killed Torrance? Then it's all over?"

"Yup. It's all over."

"Wow, I really am a hero!" Morgan beamed at them, before he realized something didn't feel right. "So why don't I remember any of this? This seems like the kind of moment I'd want to relive, and I can't remember living it the first time."

"Well," Casey said, and Morgan was surprised to see him fidget slightly. "You didn't exactly do it."

"It was Casey." Forrest interrupted. "He was the one who killed Torrance."

"But why do they think I did it?"

"Remember that story that General Beckman told us, about the theory of what Torrance was after?"

"What, you mean that whole consciousness jumping thing? Yeah, it was kind a cool, in a 'Quantum Leap' sort of way." Morgan looked at the serious faces around him. "Wait, you mean that it really exists?"

Forrest nodded. "Torrance used it, and he was going to use it on the President."

"Wow. So, did I know that when I, you know?"

The others looked at each other. Finally, Carina spoke up. "Uh, Torrance wasn't the only one to use it. Casey needed a way to get in to the White House, and so we…borrowed the device."

Morgan's eyes widened. "So then you were…me? Man, no wonder I've been craving cigars so much."

"The point is, when you shot Torrance, it was me, not you. Even though you're the one getting the credit." From Casey's tone, Morgan could tell that he wasn't exactly thrilled by the situation.

"Yeah well, I also got the blame. Thanks to you, I just spent weeks in some godforsaken cell."

"Weeks?" Casey smirked. "Grimes. You were in there for one day."

"Hey, give him a break, Casey," Carina said. "He had no idea what was going on. And you did risk his life."

"I risked both of our lives!" Casey growled. "Had he been shot, I'd have been through to."

"Wait, shot? You mean I could have been? Oh God." Morgan found a chair in the room, and sat down.

"Don't worry, Morgan," Carina reassured him. "You're out of danger now. And like I said, a hero. I hear the President himself wants to meet you."

"Meet me, and not Casey? Then he doesn't know what really happened?"

"It would be rather…difficult to supply all the details. We discussed it with the General, and it was agreed that certain things could never come to light about all of this. We also made sure that the device could never be used again."

Before, Morgan might have felt some regret about that. But he felt violated from his experience, and wouldn't want anyone else to feel the same way.

"But we managed to convince them of our story. We told them that we had taken out Torrance, but not before his Agent had been sent to take out the President. But you and Agent Forrest were on-site at the White House, and were able to stop him before it was too late."

"And we can just lie to the President like that?"

Casey snorted. "There are certain things that politicians just can't handle. Not to mention the public. The general details have been released to the press, but no names."

"It happens more than you think, Morgan," Forrest said.

"So no ticker-tape parade in your honor, Grimes," Casey smirked.

"And no meeting the President either?"

"Sorry. It's our job to stay out of the limelight. No press, no publicity."

Morgan sighed. At least he was free. "Can I go outside, see if anything has changed since I was imprisoned?"

"Grimes, you were only in there for…oh, never mind!"

* * *

"…And so we've managed to infiltrate Interglobal, Triptych, and Matrix International, and I now have a team of forensic accountants examining their records. We'll soon see how far their paper trails lead. Without anyone running things right now, we shouldn't be meeting any opposition."

General Beckman delivered the news with her usual impassive tone, but Casey could see the glint of triumph in her eyes. Any doubt about the fallout of Torrance's escape could be laid to rest, and that coupled with her leading the original defeat of the Ring, meant that she would be moving up in the world.

Casey was seated back in Castle, watching Beckman on the view screen. He was alone. Agent Forrest had already moved onto another mission, and Carina was preparing to return to the DEA. Grimes had apparently taken a leave of absence after returning. Casey wasn't going to question, or complain about, that bit of news.

Still, Casey didn't feel as triumphant as the General did. The way things had ended still left a sour taste in his mouth. While he had always been one to see the bigger picture, he couldn't shake off the knowledge that in order to finish Torrance, an innocent man had to die.

"Something bothering you, Colonel?" Casey looked up to see Beckman studying him from the screen.

"The Secret Service agent that was killed. Did he have a family?"

The General flipped through some notes in front of her. "James Dreissen. Married, One child, male, age 5."

"I see." Casey frowned. It would be easier if he was a workaholic with no family. Many in the Secret Service were. "What has the family been told?"

"Nothing yet, but we need to stick to the story. Any deviation could lead to grave consequences. We don't want anyone knowing the type of technology that is out there. If it fell in to the wrong hands…"

Fell in to the wrong hands again, Casey thought to himself. He knew he shouldn't be so frustrated. Perhaps it been because of how long he had spent on his last mission, and some of that Bartowski-ness had rubbed off on him. But after he had almost blown his cover to avoid killing the Secretary of State, in the end an innocent life had been lost anyway. And from what he knew about politicians, that life was probably a lot more innocent than the Secretary of State's.

"Maybe we can modify the story slightly," he suggested. Tell his family that he had been coerced, or tricked somehow. At least so the boy can know that his father wasn't a traitor."

General Beckman gave Casey a penetrating gaze. "You know that deviating in any way from our story contains risks, Colonel?"

Casey nodded. "I do."

"I see. Well, I'll see what we can do."

"Thank you, General."

"Oh, and Colonel?"

"I understand you have established a relationship with your daughter."

Casey froze for a moment. He knew that she couldn't be too happy about him spending time with Alex. To the General, familial bonds were an obstruction, something that kept one from being able to perform one's duties fully. Normally, Casey would agree with her.

"I encourage you to continue to do so, Colonel. It might make you feel a bit better. Take some time to spend with her." After that, the General ended the briefing.

* * *

As he was headed back to his Bungalow, Casey saw Carina walking through the courtyard. "On your way?" he asked.

"Just about. I was just saying goodbye to Morgan."

"I'll bet."

"No, nothing like that."

"Heh. Don't tell me you've figured out how to say goodbye with your clothes on?"

"Seriously," she said somewhat crossly. "We decided to go our separate ways." Casey could have sworn he heard a note of sadness in Carina's voice.

"Well." Casey said awkwardly. "Good luck back with the DEA. They're lucky to have you."

"Damn right they are!" Carina gave him her usual sly smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Walker and I are going to have that little talk."

Casey groaned inwardly as he watched her head over to his two ex-partners' bungalow. He hoped that they had come up with a good story for her.

"Hey Casey!"

Carina had turned around, and returned to where the NSA Agent was standing. He looked at her questioningly.

"I'm sorry I criticized your leadership before. I was wrong, and you knew what was right. Oh, and for the whole zapping you into Morgan thing."

Casey grunted, and held out his hand. Carina studied it for a moment, before grabbing the NSA Agent in a warm embrace.

"We'll get our chance one of these days, John," she whispered to him.

* * *

Casey found Morgan inside the bungalow. "So you dumped Carina?"

"Well, it was really more mutual."

Grimes must have seen the disbelief in Casey's eyes, so he continued. "I realized, when I was stuck in that cell, I spent a lot of time thinking about all of the people I missed, and she didn't really jump to mind."

After a moment, he added, "I guess I might regret it eventually though. She _is_ hot."

Casey didn't comment on that, as he had just noticed that there were several boxes piled outside the door to what had been Casey's exercise room. Grimes was scurrying between boxes and the monitor he'd co-opted for his games. Judging from the massive number of wires on the floor, he was in the middle of unplugging his toys.

"Something going on?"

"Uh yeah. Chuck and Sarah have invited me back to their place to stay. Isn't that great? Oh," he quickly added, "I guess I should have told you first. I hate to leave you alone again."

Casey was hardly going to complain. A return to peace and quiet sounded wonderful. Instead, he asked, "So how long is this leave of absence of yours going to last?"

"Well…," Grimes said hesitantly, "it's kinda not going to end. I think I'm done as a spy."

"Done?" Casey exclaimed. "You just started. And you're just going to quit now?"

Morgan sat down. "You know, I always thought being a spy would be this great, exciting thing. Saving the day, kids asking for your autograph, girls chasing after you. I never considered how real the danger was."

"So you were in it for the glory?"

"Well, no. I mean, not entirely. I do want to save the world and all, but I don't think, in the long run, that I'm any good at it."

"Agent Forrest thought you were." Casey had been surprised when Forrest had told him how useful he'd been when they'd been in the field together. He'd originally thought that she was just being nice, but then he'd remembered that politeness wasn't exactly her style.

"Yeah, I know. She even invited me to join her team."

Casey raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"I think she just wants somebody different from her on her team, you know?"

Casey had to admit that he did.

"Anyway," Morgan continued, "in the long run, she'll realize she doesn't need me." He stood up again, and began rolling up the cords to his game system. "Besides, the whole Scooby gang thing kind of died for me when Shaggy turned out to be a double agent. Although," he said thoughtfully, "that would explain a lot about that show."

Casey could see that the boy had made up his mind, and he wasn't going to argue. He didn't entirely agree with Morgan's self-assessment, but ego boosting wasn't his thing. That's what Bartowski was for.

"So what's next?"

"I don't know. I hear they're rebuilding the Buy More. Maybe Big Mike can get me my Assistant Manager's job back. And I finally did open up those envelopes from the CIA. You're right about the checks. They sent me an extra one for that whole prison thing too. A big one."

Casey snorted.

"But I'm sure you'll find a new team. I doubt you'll miss me at all."

* * *

As much as he enjoyed the newfound peace and quiet, Casey began to get antsy during the following days. The dismantling of the remnants of the Ring was a matter for the money men and the record keepers, not field agents. And with no newfound dangers in sight, that meant that Casey was on holiday. And he hated holidays.

At least he'd managed to spend some time with his daughter during the days off. Things were still awkward, but they had found some things to talk about. It was probably because he was trying harder. The idea of losing a father, like the Secret Service agent's son had, without really knowing him, was one he didn't want to consider.

So he felt nothing but relief when General Beckman contacted him to let him know he was to meet with his new team. He eagerly headed to the makeshift car dealership base hoping that this would mean the start of a new mission. He was a bit concerned about the new team. With his luck it would probably be those over-the-hill Turners, Sean Penn, and that curly-haired goofball from the Buy More with the name he'd never bothered to learn.

There was no sign of anybody when he reached the base. He set up the conference room, and got the General on the view screen. "Where's this new team?" he asked.

"I'm sure they'll be along shortly, Colonel. I trust your vacation has been satisfactory."

The General flashed a small smile at Casey's responding grunt. "Well, you survived it anyway. By the way, the President and the Secretary of State both extend their thanks to you."

"Wonderful."

"While not fully versed in the details of the mission," the General continued, ignoring Casey's sarcastic reply, "they are both familiar with your record, and do know that you were a member of the team that brought down Torrance. They told me to inform you that if there was anything that they could do for…"

"That's ok, General." He knew that political promises weren't worth the paper the IOU's were printed on.

General Beckman nodded, then her eyes looked past Casey. "Ah, I see the rest of the team has arrived."

Casey looked around. "You two?" he asked in surprise.

* * *

"Nice to see you too, Casey," Chuck Bartowski said. Beside him, arms enfolded, Sarah Walker gave him an unreadable expression.

"Colonel," Beckman said through the monitor, "Agents Bartowski and Walker have chosen to re-enlist. Apparently, civilian life didn't entirely agree with them."

Casey snorted. He wasn't surprised. He'd always known that Walker couldn't handle life outside of the spy world, and he'd been wondering a bit about Bartowski as well.

"Well, I'll leave you to get 'reacquainted.' The mission brief will start at 1500 hours." The view screen went blank.

Casey turned to Bartowski. "What about your sister?"

"Well, we kind of have you to thank for that, Casey," Walker responded. "After you managed to get her involved in that last mission, she told me she realized that there was no way we could ever be completely free of the spy life. So it would be better if we at least knew what was going on, so we could be ready for whatever comes next."

"So Team Bartowski is back," Bartowski flashed one of his annoying grins.

As much as he hated to admit it, Casey had to admit he wasn't disappointed by the news. "So I guess I should catch you up on the last mission."

"Well, we know a few things," Walker responded. "Carina wasn't as vague as she thought she was."

"So did Shaw really kill himself?" Bartowski asked.

"Yup." Casey could see that neither of them was particularly broken up about this.

"And the Ring, there's pretty much nothing left of it now?" Walker asked.

"It's all gone now."

"Well, I guess there's not much left to ask about," Bartowski said, "Really, there's only one thing that I see that we need to know."

"What's that?"

"What was it like inside Morgan's brain?"

**End**

_Well, a sincere thank you to everyone who stuck by this story. It was a long one (for me anyway), and given that it was a bit "ratings challenged," I appreciate you guys that did stick around even more._

_The story probably didn't end up exactly where I was planning it to. As the story went on, I realized I was in danger of making the female characters be a bit one-dimensional, so I tried to beef up Carina's and Forrest's characters, perhaps to the expense of Casey and Morgan. I also probably spent a bit too much time with Sandoval._

_I will do a couple more "B-side" chapters to this story, including the conversation between Carina and Sarah, and hopefully a scene with Carina and Forrest (I definitely should have done more with two of them together)._

_Well, thanks to everyone again, and please let me know how you thought the story worked on the whole. Reviews are the best gift!_


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